Tainted With Memories And Scars
by Bellethiel Merilwen
Summary: She requested to be forgotten, her life meant nothing to her, and likewise she wished it to mean nothing to any other. But the fellowship loved her, her friends loved her. They could not leave her life unwritten, Middle-Earth needed to know of the Tenth.
1. Prologue

**DISCLAIMER**: Obviously you will realize that I own very few characters in this story. However, I've seen that a disclaimer is a necessity. So here it is! I own the following characters/their families/their histories/etc.: Evalgine, Trinity Night, Scarlette Rowe, Faith Evans, Destiny Motto, Dezaria Johnson. The rest belong to the Tolkien Estate.

- **RATED**: M for violence/gore/and maybe sex if I get ambitious.

**WHAT TO EXPECT**:  
- Violence/gore/hostility, this is Bellethiel writing it, what do you expect?

- A freakishly long story  
- Random odds and ends that I decide to stick in it.  
- Original characters with histories/attitudes/actions of their own.  
- Cheesy Legomance, hell, I won't even beat around the bush. Give it a chance. Unless you hate Legolas, then you can go ahead and move on.  
- I will be using the movie plotline for sanity's sake.

* * *

He watched her die, felt the slick wetness that was her blood smeared on his hands. Still, he could taste her, the sweetness of her tongue before the fatality. How cruel it seemed, to shoot down a mere girl, who had only just now found the joys of womanhood. Hours ago, he made love to her, and now her body was slumped against him, lifeless and void of the life that filled it to the brim only seconds ago. Carefully, reverently, he lowered her to the ground, ignoring the clashing of swords behind him. "_Evalgine_." His whisper drifted over the screaming – bestrode the panic. She stirred, alive, though barely. Her eyes pried themselves open with great effort, the spark of youth in them fading fast. Hot tears threatened to spill over, he blinked rapidly to evade them for a few more crucial moments. Teacher, protector, friend, lover, he had been all to her. She was his eternity. Thoughts raced in his mind; he should have known the orcs would attack, should have known that she would risk her life in battle, should have known that she would give herself to him without hesitation, should have, should have, should have. Yes, there were many things he _should have_ known, but did not. He made a mistake surrendering to her, for now he feared he would be forced to live out his long years without the girl he had come to adore. His will pleaded with the Valar. _Let her live_. _Let her breathe_. She opened her mouth in a shuddering gasp; blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Tenderly, he wiped it away. Her fingers twitched, and he completed the thought and action for her by grabbing her slender hand and cradled it to his face. He leaned forward, allowing his forehead to rest lightly against hers. No breath caressed his face, though he yearned for it to. His eyes shut tightly, and the prince allowed a few tears to fall on her perfect features. "_I love you_." He wished he had imagined those blood-chocked words, for many years they would haunt him. Slowly his eyes opened, only to find that it was too late. Evalgine was dead; her brilliant green eyes did not see him any longer, but something greater than him. He clutched her body tightly to him, and his howl of grief competed greatly with the painful shrieks of the others heard on the battlefield that day.

Her father came. The battle had been won. The Prince did not release Evalgine, but looked up at the man without shame. He was looking down at them, his traitor daughter and the Elf Prince. "Burn the bodies," he ordered the men and Elven warriors who had gathered, then turned to leave. "And your daughter, My Liege?" asked one. The King – or so the naïve called him – halted. "She is no better than the rest that died here – burn her with the others." Legolas let out a cry of protest when of the men tried to separate Evalgine's body from him, pulling her to his right to avoid their greedy arms. He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, "My Lord, there is nothing that can be done, let her go. Obey her father's wishes, however…crude they may seem." He looked down at her body, bloodied and bruised from the battle, and gave her a chaste kiss before slowly, reluctantly, handing her to her father's whim. Anger swelled within him, and he simply could not keep himself from exchanging a few choice words with the 'King.' "Our kingdom will never ally with yours," Legolas hissed between clenched teeth, "And she was worth much more than you _ever_ gave her merit for. Her father said nothing, though his eyes blazed with an untouchable hate – and power. The Mirkwood Prince turned his heel on the man, and his eyes caught an unfavorable glimpse of Evalgine's limp body being tossed haphazardly into a wheel barrow filled with others. He gripped the upper arm of the closest Elf near him, "We leave at once." "But your supplies, my Lord-" "Leave them," he ground out between brief flashes of rage, "Let the _King_ do with it as he pleases. Everything that made his place inhabitable is gone." The Elf nodded in understanding, and left to group the others. Legolas drew a few shaky breaths, and looked into his right hand.

Crumpled inside his shaking fist was a red-soaked silver chain, and on that chain was the ring that was meant to make Evalgine his wife. For a few moments, he stared at it, pain filling his every limb. With one arrow, and a distracting kiss, his only happiness had been stolen from him. He watched her die that day, that wondrous, brave, beautiful girl of merely fifteen, who had fought valiantly and had nothing to show for it, not even her own grave.

* * *

Whoa. Emotional strife, or what? 


	2. Syringes, A Nanny, And Aunties

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

New York City, NY. Present Day 

The apartment shook violently from the screaming. Three women raised their voices in a bitter quarrel while the teenaged girl hid in the bathroom; backpack still heavy in her hands. What seemed like hours ago, young Dezaria and her aunt Destiny had stumbled in on this verbal war between Faith, Scarlette, and the near unbreakable Trinity. Just as her aunt had open the door, Scralette could be seen stumbling clumsily across the room and there was a moment of brief anticipated silence before she slammed an object down on the table with the promise of both conviction and hostility. Both emotions in Scarlette were foreign to Dezaria, and she found the look on Scarlette's face especially frightening. The normally sunny and wide smile was gone, replaced instead by a large frown set with gritted teeth. Her Spanish accent was smothered in fury; eyes bloodshot from crying or drinking, Dezaria still did not know which.

Her aunt's long time friend, Scarlette Rowe held an unspoken authority over each of her friends. She never seemed like one who held a lot of power, with her questionable upbringing and promiscuous nature, but it was she who had brought each of the women together. It was her that kept them from falling away, falling apart. Since Dezaria was a toddler, Scarlette had always been there, as a surrogate "auntie" whenever she had a question about more intimate concepts that she felt couldn't possibly be discussed with Destiny. Indeed, the concept of sex was an unfamiliar and uncomfortable matter to her young aunt, and she'd admitted that the field would be better explored with Scarlette, whom she deemed an expert on the subject. The topic had been thoroughly discussed between Dezaria and Scarlette one night a few years ago, and Dezaria refused to talk about it any more. Even now, she referred to that night's horror as "The Talk," keeping the details of the conversation as vague as could be. Scarlette felt as though her place in life was a comedic one, making people smile and laugh was her oxygen. She did hold a certain charm for that, her smart comments and blunt nature made her a favorite among Dezaria's few friends, and she also gave the impression that she was the type to sneak them alcohol when in her care. With closely cropped, impossibly dyed red hair and bright blue eyes, she looked appropriately mischievous, and her naturally tanned skin reminded the others of her Latina heritage. She was the type of woman who, though a few years over forty, acted twenty and lied about her age.

"You lied to me," Scarlette had shouted at Trinity, who merely sat there with an unreadable expression, her brilliant green eyes void of any emotion.

For as long as Dezaria could remember, Trinity had been like that. Rarely did she laugh or smile or even show some kind of irritation. This cold ambivalence often made others weary of her; moreover, her lack of concern and morals made them uncomfortable, and they didn't wish to be in her presence. Yet even with her typical coldness, she seemed to hold some ambiguity. With her all her ambivalence, she also radiated a quiet, subdued aggression, though it was never necessarily directed at any particular being. Her back hair was straight and long, perfectly parted, and framed her somber face and pale skin with an interestingly fluent contrast. Imperfection was perfection with her and there was the air was filled with envy whenever she walked into a room. Admittedly, Dezaria felt this jealousy occasionally, the way her nanny turned heads without any real intention to do so, even boys her age couldn't help but stare. Trinity Night never wanted attention, but with her strikingly melancholy features and almost feline body, she had lived with the unwanted praise all her life. Words from her were rare, and those spoken out loud were mystifying and filled with a kind of ulterior meaning. Nevertheless, Dezaria's mother, Margaret, put her full trust in Trinity, and deemed the strange woman nanny of her children.

Destiny had tried to push her niece away from the fight, tried to protect her from the impure emotion of anger scorching from Scarlette. Dezaria didn't bother to resist, though a glimpse at the table told her that the object thrown so forcefully on it had been a syringe. She bit her lip, sucking in a breath, and ran into the bathroom. There she still remained, stifling her sobs, her gray were eyes rimmed red from her tears, and her strawberry blond ringlets slowly unwound themselves from her loose ponytail. Since she was a child, Trinity had taken care of her. Even when her mother committed suicide all those years ago, and she was sent to live with Destiny, Trinity still visited them daily. Helping her with difficult homework, giving helpful advice, and she had seemed the ideal nanny, perhaps even a mother. It was too much for Dezaria, knowing that the woman she once asked to be her mother was nothing more than a common junkie. No noise drifted to her from beyond her safe haven. The yelling had stopped. Slowly, cautiously, she opened the door and peered out from behind it.

"We trusted you," Scarlette's whisper was low and hoarse, "All of us."

"Scarlette, please," Dezaria's aunt began, "There must be some explanation for this. Don't be so quick to jump to conclusions."

Always, Destiny Motto was the most reasonable among her aunties. A Harvard graduate, she possessed a seemingly unchallengeable amount of knowledge in her slight form. She appeared deceivingly docile, with her small, thin body and pastel clothes. Violet eyes and long silver hair gave her the appearance of any hopeful beauty queen. Trained to be pleasant and quick with a smile, she was the kindest of all Dezaria's aunties, and the only one related by blood, but somehow the hardest to talk with. Dezaria suspected that her own mother's words might be responsible for that. Margaret's mother never cared for her younger sibling; Destiny was the favorite between the two girls. Youthful, gifted, beautiful, she was everything the eldest couldn't be. Margaret did her best to love her younger sister, but with each of her accomplishments, Margaret could not help but feel inferior. The hate, though not instant, was instilled through the years. She often told Dezaria that Destiny should be her role model, not her. But Destiny was not the heartless kind, and attempted to reach her older sister. No matter what she did, Destiny couldn't please her, and gave up eventually. When Margaret took her own life, Dezaria was placed in her aunt's care. At first, it was too awkward to bear, but over time, it grew easier. Destiny made it easier.

"There ain't an explanation," snapped Faith, who up until then had been uncharacteristically silent. Her Southern accent was filled with malice, "If there was, she would'a told us."

Faith Evans was the type of woman who clung to her youth and demanded attention. Often, her vanity was the subject of ridicule between her friends, family, and co-workers alike. She claimed it to be on account of her work, the pressure to look good for the cameras. Certainly, there was some truth in this, acting and singing had always been highly publicized career paths, but Dezaria thought Faith took this to a new high. Her looks were typical, almost plain, with her wavy brown hair, chocolate eyes, and artificial smile that displayed blinding rows of bleached white teeth. She was in her earlier forties, but still looked twenty, thanks to excessive cosmetic surgery. Always, her face was painted with makeup; Dezaria had no idea what she actually looked like without the thick colors smeared on her lips and eyelids. Scarlette looked like that sometimes, but Destiny and Trinity never did. Maybe that was why Dezaria had always wished to be them. Faith was sociable enough, but her words and actions were so predictable that it was practically routine when she spoke to anyone about any subject. Her topics included herself, her job, and her husband, that was it. Any other concern was alien to her.

"You're her _nanny_, Trinity!" Scarlette screamed suddenly.

Dezaria's heart restricted in her chest.

"How could you do this to her? She depends on you, she loves you!"

Trinity looked past her, straight at Dezaria. And for an instant, Dezaria imagined that she saw a spark of pain cross her features. But then the mask, the indestructible ambivalence replaced the weak emotion. Her eyes stayed focused on her, the eyes Dezaria used to trust. Destiny followed Trinity's gaze, sadness filled her face when she saw Dezaria.

"Dezzy, sweetie, why don't you go do your homework, please?" She asked sweetly, resurrecting the childish nickname from the grave

Her niece shook her head, "No." She never did care for that pet name.

The voice that spoke from her body was strong, not the shy tone Destiny was used to. All but Destiny ignored her easily.

"How could you do this to her?" Scarlette repeated, her eyes watery. "To _us_? Weren't we enough?"

"What, can't we be fun enough for ya, sweet pea?" Faith joined in. "Gotta have everything, don't you? Don't care about anything, do you?"

"Dezaria, please do your homework," Destiny's voice quivered, trying to summon parental authority.

"No. I want to stay."

"Do your homework, baby." Trinity's voice startled them all. Her untraceable accent was soft, yet undeniable.

Dezaria's lower lip trembled as she fought hard against tears and lost. With long strides, she ran to Scarlette's room and slammed the door. She sank against the wood and sobbed. She knew she hurt Destiny, but didn't her aunt realize that she _wanted_ to be there? How long she cried, Dezaria didn't know, but eventually pulled herself onto the clumsily made bed. Exhaustion overtook her, and she couldn't fight the sleep. More than ever, she wished her life could start over. If only her family could have another chance!

In this present state of uneasy rest, she couldn't have known that her prayers would be answered and she would wake in a strange place, without her aunties to protect her.


	3. Away From Home

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

The nightmare held her in its sturdy grasp, with each struggle; it merely tightened with reassurance that she would not prevail over this darkness. Images flashed through her mind, memories, nightmares, whatever they were caused immeasurable dread. Finally, when she seemed lost to her insanity, her eyes snapped open. Dilated pupils colored the emerald irises black, and her usually impassive mouth was twisted in real pain. Her lungs gulped the air greedily, desperately, like a newborn infant's first screaming breath. For several moments she remained in that state, until at last she understood the difference between her current reality and the hallucination. Easing her eyes shut, Trinity clouded herself in darkness once again and listened, felt. Birds sang, the sun warmed her face and neck, and with a sweep of her naked palm against the ground, the earth announced the dull prickle of grass. Muffled shouts rose to her ears, not panicked, but content, like children playing or a mother scolding her child. Also, horses, the sound of their hoofs unmistakable as they pounded against dirt. She eased herself into a sitting position, and immediately regretted the action. Pain racked against the back of her skull and black marks spotted her vision temporarily. Trinity scowled, unused to such agony, and pressed a white hand to her eyes in annoyance. She had had far worse pain than this in the past. Dropping her hand, her eyes measured the landscape as she groped for familiarity with her surroundings. Rolling hills, high mountains, and blue skies could be observed. The sound of inhabitance drifted toward her from her east, just beyond a grouping of trees. Her instincts of survival easily overtook her and an idea formulated in her pounding head. If she reached the trees quickly, she could hid behind then and watch the source of the noise. From there, she could hopefully deduct where she was or at least learn the people's routine. Standing, she stretched unhurriedly and glanced about. Nothing seemed to be a current threat, and from the shadows cast and the sun's position, she reasoned it to be about noon, give or take. With a vacant expression, she made her way to the grove of trees that stood between her and some form of civilization.

She reached them without trouble, and chose a big oak to rest behind. Propping her leg up against the trunk, she followed the curve of her calf with one hand, pushing her pants up until she located the knife strapped there. With a yank, she pulled it from its sheath easily. The blade was more of a precaution, a tool. Scralette never understood this, and constantly scolded her for being a bad example. Trinity pushed her friends to the back of her mind. Later, she would worry about them. She jammed the blade into the bark and took hold of the handle. Leaning to the side, she caught a quick glimpse and knew that the one glance was probably all she needed. Years of paranoia had heightened her ability to memorize things in an instant. The buildings were constructed of wood, carriages and horses were still in use here, and the people dressed in simple medieval style clothing. If this surprised Trinity, she did not show it. A glance down at her own attire pronounced the need for a new outfit. Button by button, she undid the blouse she wore and threw it up into a nearby tree, designating that as her home for the next few hours. Standing there in her undershirt and black slacks, she bit her lip as she thought about what must happen. She would need new clothing, that much was certain. It would not be difficult; the people looked like the type to have an abundance of basic needs. She required information mostly, what the current news of the village was. All this seemed easy enough to obtain after nightfall. Cautiously, she gripped the knife's hilt again and prepared to find another outfit. A frown found her pretty features as she realized the woman all wore dresses, something she refused to do. Instead, she focused on the young men, and estimated she could easily slip into their garments and pass them as her own. She pulled the knife from the tree and returned it to the sheath. Quickly, gracefully, she climbed the other tree and settled herself on a thick branch. She checked and assured herself that she could see the village from where she stayed.

Leaning back leisurely, she let herself think about the others as she waited for night's cover. The suspicion that Scarlette, Faith, and Destiny would be lost or killed clouded her mind. Scarlette was much too loud, Faith too reliant on modern technology, and Destiny was simply too pleasant to consider stealing her own necessities of survival. Trinity's bad influence had not yet spread to them. Dezaria, she had confidence in. Years of watching her nanny had given her an almost unfair advantage, or so Trinity hoped. A sharp stab of pain caused her heart to falter as she remembered the tears on Dezaria's cheeks during the argument. The memories of Scarlette's face, Faith's words, Destiny's loss of control were all too fresh in her mind. Still, she told herself, she must find them. Despite their disappointment and shame in her, they meant everything. Deeply, she regretted her actions and sins against them, but if they had known the circumstance, perhaps they would not have been so quick to judge. It hurt to think of them, of it, the reason. The sun was blazing, hours stretched out before her, taunting. Hours of these thoughts, her betrayal and emotional strife, threatened to drive her mad. She could not allow herself to mope, turn weak. Trinity slammed her head against the tree's base, hard enough to do damage, and almost smiled before she fainted from the pain. She greatly preferred unconsciousness to her own judgment.

When at last she pried her eyes open, it was already well into the night. She cursed under her breath and swung her legs over the side of the thick branch. Her fingers ran carelessly through her hair, she ignored the dried blood from where the trunk had done its damage. Suddenly, she pushed off and dropped almost soundlessly to the ground. She took a moment to steady herself before pressing forward. The brush and grove were simple enough to slip through, though the village provided some difficulty. No real cover could be offered there, and so Trinity reminded herself to be extremely cautious and not wake any of the inhabitance there. The clothes were the simplest to obtain, as they were hanging outside near one home. A simple brown tunic hugged her body pleasingly, and the color of her breeches melted with the black leather of her boots. She threw her slacks, undershirt, and shoes into a nearby brush. For food, she entered one of the homes and rifled through their cupboards, throwing items and a few small weapons into a cloth sack she had stolen from outdoors. Information she caught through a few implications, the weapons in the homes told her that war was upon them. The horse, also, was simple. All she needed was a saddle and a few kindly whispered words to the mare before she led him out of the stable. Tying her food pack to the saddle, she mounted the horse and gripped the reigns. Briefly, she considered forcing the stallion to gallop, but she could not risk her capture for a mere thrill. Any other time, she would have enjoyed the potential danger, but she reminded herself that this currently was no time to play games. Blindly, she guided her horse out of the village.


	4. Neither Good Nor Evil, But There

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

She did now know how long or far she rode. After all, this journey wasn't a matter of time or distance to her, but one of necessity. Only the proud documented their travels, she had learned. The horse's hooves pounded against the ground, creating a rhythmic flow to her thoughts._I will find them_; she vowed with each stomp, _I will find them_. The mixture of frigid rain and wind stung her face till her cheeks were flushed and numb. Her joints stiffened to the extent where it burned to move even a little. She jerked the reigns to the left, avoiding a heavy branch by inches. The leather cut into her fragile skin; she savored the pain. Only that kept her conscious. Blinking several times, she fought off the hint of a faint, and then set her jaw in irritation. When her sight readjusted, she could make out a great black wall, wonderfully constructed. As she drew closer, she slowed the mare to a halt and stared impassively at three small childlike figures below her. They looked up with wide eyes and wisps of hair. Unconsciously, Trinity straightened to hide whatever weakness they might find in her. These were not children, their stances and faces proved it. Not a word passed between them. Then, abruptly, a section of the great door opened and an inquisitive face peered out, distrusting and old.

"What do you want?" asked the elderly face.

Trinity did not respond.

One of the others did. "We're heading for the Prancing Pony."

The man stepped out from behind the heavy door of his haven, "Hobbits? _Four_ Hobbits. What's more, out of the shire! What type of business have you to bring?"

The little one replied again, speaking for all of them, "We wish to stay at the inn, our business is our own." There was a small sense of nobility in his tone, and urgency.

She shut her ears, not wishing to become involved with these tiny creatures. These hobbits. Almighty willing, she hadn't the strength to refuse her friends so many years ago. And look what had happened now. The door opened and he let the Hobbits through. Trinity did not move.

"Alright, young sir," replied the wrinkled man in an apologetic tone, "I meant no offense. It's my job to ask questions. There's talk of strange folk abroad. Can't be too careful."

The Gatekeeper paused and focused his eyes on Trinity, squinting to see through the raindrops. "What of this one?" he called to the others.

The voice of them spoke up yet again, "She is part of my kin. Please, allow her to pass as well."

His real kin glanced at each other momentarily, as though silently asking themselves if she was worthy of their secret reason for staying there that night. The question was easy enough to answer. No, she wasn't worthy, because she simply did not care. If the young Hobbit had said nothing, she still would have found a way inside. This only made the transition easier. Strangely, though, she felt some gratitude towards him. He helped her without knowing her name or history. He trusted her, foolish little thing, but she couldn't bring herself to abandon them once inside. For the moment, she indebted herself to him, and told herself that latching onto this group would give her the opportunity to gain useful information about this place. She needed him, for now. Slowly, she dismounted and led the horse by the reigns through the city. When she made to disband from them, the Hobbits glanced up at her questioningly.

"Thank you, Little One," Trinity murmured, her talent for replicating dialect resurfacing, "Your kindness will not be forgotten."

"Can you not stay with us?" asked another. She nearly smiled, her plan worked so easily.

"No," she whispered, then raised her voice slightly, "No, I cannot. I must find my kin; I've lost them." Disdain rose in her, she hated to tell them that, but she would rather not lie either. Not to something so innocent and trusting.

"Gandalf may be able to help her," whispered one of them to the leader, who nodded thoughtfully. _Gandalf_, she stored the name in her mind and pressed back the question of who that was to the back. This was not the time for questions, not in the cold, stinging rain.

"My name is Frodo," announced the leader, "These are my friends, Sam, Merry, and Pippin."

They beamed up at her and a faint smile touched her lips at their accommodating nature. "Trinity, it is a pleasure to meet you all. Now," she whispered with an air of importance, "Where are we?"

The one called Merry smiled, "Bree, my Lady. We're here to find Gandalf, the wizard." He glanced at Frodo, but said no more. In all honestly, Trinity did not want to hear it.

A stony silence set forth, as the new companions found their way to the inn. Trinity left for the stables as the Hobbits scurried inside and left her pitiful bag of provisions tied to the mare. She stroked its muzzle soothingly, a soundless thanks for its compliance. Then, she walked into to inn as if she belonged. The stench of alcohol was strong, and she it felt more almost like home at once. Men sang off-key, there were scoundrels and fights, just like the club she bartended in New York. Her eyes scanned the figures briefly before discovering Frodo and the others by the bar. He and Sam seemed taken aback. Pippin and Merry; however, seemed at home. Frodo made his way to the bar with uncertainty

"E-excuse me!" he called over the wood, which towered over him.

A gruff looking man caught a glance at Trinity and made a particularly rude gesture that was obviously meant to be an invite. She scowled and considered knocking him on his back, but decided against it. Instead, she fixed him with a glare and rested her hand on Frodo's shoulder. He glanced at her with wide eyes as the bartender looked first at her, then at them.

"Good evenin' Little Masters," the man said cheerfully, wiping at a mug. He talked to the Hobbits as if he spoke to a child and winked at Trinity, "What can I do for you? If you're lookin' for some accommodations, we got some nice, cozy, Hobbit-size rooms available. Always proud to cater to the little folk, Mister…?"

"Underhill," Frodo said eagerly, "My name's Underhill."

"Underhill, yea.." replied the bartender, not looking completely convinced.

"We're friends of Gandalf the Grey," Frodo pressed on, "Can you tell him we've arrived?"

"Gandalf?" he man said, brows knitting together as though trying to recall a distant memory. "Gandalf," he muttered again, "Oh, yes. I remember, elderly chap, big gray beard, and pointy hat." Frodo smiled and nodded. "Not seen him fer six months," he finished.

Frodo's face fell and he turned to his kin, Trinity leaned down to hear their huddle.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked fervently.

Frodo didn't reply. Merry and Pippin looked at the bar with hopeful expressions, and moments later, all except Trinity and Merry sat at a table with mugs of ale in hand. Frodo looked downcast while Sam offered words of encouragement. Trinity sat, balancing her chair on two legs and stared unseeingly at the ceiling above her.

"Are you sure you don't want anything, my Lady?" asked Pippin.

Trinity lifted her head to see who spoke, then rested it against the back of her chair again. "I don't drink."

"Doesn't drink!" he whispered urgently to his friends, but his train of thought was lost as

Merry arrived with a rather large mug and slammed it purposefully on the table.

"What's that?" Pippin asked breathlessly. The awe and envy in his voice was clear.

"This, my friends, is a pint!"

"It comes in pints? I'm getting one," Pippin cried before disappearing into the crowd.

"You got a whole half already," Sam called after him, almost motherly. Trinity rolled her eyes; she was never one for parental figures, which seemed a bit hypocritical, since she had been somewhat of a mother to Dezaria for the last few years.

"That fellow's done nothing but stare at you since we arrived," Sam's observation through the food stuffed in his mouth made her look up.

Her watchful eyes caught the outline of a man clothed in black, a hood drawn over his eyes and a pipe in his hand. He appeared exceptionally threatening, and Trinity nearly smiled as she thought about the thrill of a challenge. Her hand pulled the knife from her boot, keeping it hidden, not yet wanting to expose herself. A little sigh escaped her lips, one almost of pleasure, as she thought of killing someone. Then, perhaps, she wouldn't feel so helpless. Frodo looked over at Trinity to see her pupils dilating; the green which had left him so hypnotized at the gate now lost to the darkness.

Frodo caught the arm of the bartender as he passed by, "Excuse me, that man in the corner…who is he?"

He looked in the direction Frodo had nodded, "He's one of them rangers, dangerous folk they are. Runnin' around in the wild. What his right name is, I never 'eard it, but 'round here, he's known as Strider."

Only half of Trinity processed this, the rest was dizzy, thinking about what she would need to protect the Hobbits. _Dangerous man_, she thought scornfully, _ha! Let's see what damage I can do to that hidden face_. A revelation hit her, Frodo had quit answering Sam. Tearing her glare away from the man called Strider, she settled her gaze on the Hobbit and watched in confusion as he fingered a golden ring reverently. The scoundrels gave him strange looks, filled with a kind of lust for the object he held. Trinity pieced together was she could, the secret burden Frodo carried was the ring. Gandalf, whoever he truly was, had been meant to receive it. She flipped the knife in her hands, the men seemed to be pulled by this ring, and judging by Frodo's reaction to it, so did he.

"Baggins!" Pippin's voice rose to them over the noise, "Sure, I know a Baggins! He's over there. _Frodo_ Baggins, he's my second cousin, once removed on my mother's side."

Frodo's blue eyes went wide; Trinity looked at him questioningly as he stumbled clumsily out of his seat and started towards Pippin in a panic. Trinity found herself standing and pressing through the crowd after him. She watched him trip, the ring flew into the air. As it sped to his finger, wrapping itself safely around the flesh, the Hobbit vanished. Once again, her face dissolved into that look of ambivalence, though inside she was bewildered. The other Hobbits separated and searched for Frodo. A hand rested against her shoulder.

"Follow me," whispered the cloaked figure, grabbing her wrist.

When a panicked Frodo reappeared, Strider snatched him and mercilessly dragged him up the steps of the inn. Trinity followed quickly, not really concerned about his welfare, but about what distraction she had been thrown into. Surely this would take away her guide and her chance to find Scarlette and the others. Frodo hit the floor with a loud thump and scrambled to his feet, glaring at Strider and Trinity as if they were plotting against him. She shut the door softly and turned back to face them.

"What do you want?" his bravery was a lie.

"A little more caution from you, that is no trinket you carry," Strider snapped, walking over to the candles which provided the room with a pitiful amount of light.

"I carry nothing."

Trinity raised an eyebrow at his lie.

"Indeed," Strider replied, extinguishing the flames one by one, "I can avoid being seen if I wish, but to disappear entirely, that is a rare gift."

He pulled the hood away; Trinity could see his dirty brown hair, tangled and long. Only his calm blue eyes hinted at the sense of humanity.

"Who are you?"

"Are you frightened?" the tone Strider used was one of mocking.

Frodo hesitated, "Yes."

"Not nearly frightened enough. I know what hunts you," he nodded toward Trinity once, she moved away from the door, knife still in hand.

There was a rumble from beyond the door, and then the it spewed three more Hobbits into the room. Strider had his sword raised, Trinity held out her free hand; palm up, to stop him. Sam came first, little fists raised, Merry second with candles, and Pippin with an oversized mallet took up the rear.

"Let 'em go," Sam cried, "Or I'll have you on shanks!" He whirled suddenly on Trinity with the promise of false allegations, "You! You've been with that ranger all along, haven't you? Are you evil?"

A ghost of a smile touched her lips, "Evil, Little one? Evil is always possible. Goodness is the difficulty. I am neither, sorry to disappoint you."

Strider sheathed his weapon, "You have a stout heart, little Hobbit. But that will not save you. You can no longer wait for the wizard, Frodo. They're coming."


	5. Nazgul And An Elf

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

The Hobbits fell asleep almost instantly after they were sent to another building to spend the night. Trinity and the ranger had stayed to fix the blankets in the inn's room, to make it appear as though Hobbits laid in them. She asked no questions, gave no hint that these activities were unusual to her in any way. Strider found her silence in itself suspicious, the emotionless depth of her eyes made the effect all the more disturbing. He had seen the way she looked at him in the tavern, like she could smell the very blood pumping in his veins. The way she held that knife, gripped till her knuckles turned white from the effort, she meant to kill him. Yet she helped him hide the Hobbits and the fateful thing they carried. Now she sat with him near the window, settled neatly on the floor since she had refused the comfort of a chair. The knife hadn't left Trinity's hand all this time, and she drew her fingers slowly across the blade, as if stroking a pet. Strider leaned back in his chair and caught her eye for a moment before she jerked her head away again.

"You meant to kill me in the inn." It didn't sound like an accusation; it was fact.

She looked at him with those eerily dead eyes, "How presumptuous you are to assume that."

"I never assumed, it was clear intention, I saw it in your eyes," he said, still watching her, wondering if she really saw him or something else.

"Did you?" a faint tone of mocking announced the first bit of emotion he had experienced thus far. Her face turned back to the window.

He too moved his gaze back to the darkness, "You don't blend as well as you think, it is not so hard to tell you don't belong."

She remained silent; the moonlight glinted off her blade.

In the distance, inhuman shrieks could be heard. Frodo sat heavily on the bed his kin shared, watching Strider with an almost grateful expression. Sam and the others shot up immediately, mouths agape with fear. Trinity rested peacefully on the floor, still running her slender hands over the cold steel of her knife. Strider stiffened slightly in his seat. These creatures caused chaos, she prepared for a history lesson.

"What are they?" Frodo whispered.

"They were once men," Strider said with a reminiscent air, he fixed his gaze on the Hobbit. "Great kings of men, then Sauron the Deceiver gave to them nine rings of power. Blinded by their greed, they took them without question and one by one fell into darkness. Now they are slaves to his will. They are the Nazgul, Ringwraiths, neither living nor dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one. They will never stop hunting you."

So she had been thrown into a war of fates, it seemed. This ring, whatever it was, was important to Sauron. Trinity and the Hobbits faced death from the Nazgul, as did this Strider. A brief scowl met her features as she realized that she had met a series of circumstances far beyond her control, she hoped that her friends weren't involved with this. Nothing made her uneasier than the thought of them in battle. The hope she had in Dezaria was to survive, but to do battle, that was something else entirely.

"What do we do?" Pippin asked.

The answer was automatic, "We keep moving and deny them a straight path."

"And the ring, will they sense it?" Sam asked with a tone that suggested that he was on the verge of terror.

"It is safer to move then stay here," Trinity replied, standing slowly. "Whoever this stranger is, he has done us no harm and does not yet show the intent. I believe we can trust him, for now." She pushed back the thought that she was naively placing faith in this outsider, the way they had placed their faith in her.

They started through the woods in the early morn. Strider and Trinity led, the Hobbits trailing behind them by a few feet. For several hours, they all remained silent. Sam and Pippin attempted conversation a few times, but were disappointed with the lack of response from the two humans. Strider mostly kept his distance from them all, only a few words passed from his lips, and Trinity had not said a word since her speech the night before. She moved step by step, gracefully and skillfully, as though she had been facing this danger all her life. The Hobbit; however, staggered clumsily in the forest, clearly not conditioned for this type of physical activity. Normally, she would have found this incompetence exasperating, but with the young Hobbits, she thought it rather entertaining.

"Where are you taking us?" Frodo spoke up from the very back of the procession.

"Into the wild," muttered Strider vaguely.

Trinity rolled her eyes and slowed her steps until she stood by Sam, whose large pack was caught on a branch. Stubbornly, it refused to move, and Strider had passed by him without so much as a glance. With a quick tug, she freed him, and then caught his arm as he stumbled from the sudden weight. He gave her a gracious smile with bright eyes, then scurried to catch up. Trinity remained behind, taking Frodo's place as last of the procession. She trailed, allowing a large empty space to form between her and the others. Unconsciously, her fingers tugged at the thin cloth tied around her throat as she thought about what risks she took by allowing herself to be dragged into this. The Hobbits murmured amongst themselves, arguing about Strider's purpose for marching them through the forest without a hint of their intended destination.

"Where is he leadin' us?"

"Rivendell, Master Gamgee," Strider said without looking back, "to the house of Elrond."

This stirred some excitement in the Hobbit.

"Did you hear that? Rivendell! We're goin' to see the Elves," Sam smiled.

The rest of the journey was relatively silent, with the exception of a few verbal stabs and a poorly thrown apple. Trinity found the Hobbits constant chattering exhausting, though annoyance hadn't yet set it. Pippin and Merry seemed unbelievably interested in this woman, question after question was thrown at her, all of which she ignored easily. They considered her lack of conversation and interest against a social norm. She was alien to them, a freak. _Good_, she thought bitterly, _let it remain that way_. The less they knew – Strider included – the safer they were. It should have been the opposite, that the less she knew, the safer she was. Trinity knew better than to delude herself into thinking that.

They made camp at ruins of a great tower called Amon Sul. Strider gave a short narration of its history, but to be honest, Trinity had not bothered to listen. One more thing she knew about, one more thing that would make her mission increasingly difficult. As the Hobbits set themselves a camp, she stared dreamily at the sky, and Merry would later confide in the others that he saw something then, an emotion in her. Sorrow and pain, perhaps even anger stirred in her emerald eyes for just a moment. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone in an instant, replaced instead by the smooth mask of nothing. Pippin called out another question to her, breaking her gaze at the moon as she moved her eyes calmly toward him. Merry elbowed him hard in the ribs as Trinity walked away without a word.

"You should rest," Strider told the Hobbits. He then turned to her, "Come with me."

Her look was one of slight annoyance; she never fared well in having a commander and lacked the ability to control her mouth around any superior. She locked her jaw to avoid such an incident and followed him away from the camp and into the night. It took her a moment to comprehend what he was doing, studying the earth and the position of the trees. He was planning an escape. _A plan B_, she thought with a faint trace of humor. For a long while, neither of them spoke, she savored the long silence stretched before them.

"You ask no questions," he mumbled almost to himself, "it's almost as though you do not care what you're facing at all."

"Ignorance is strength," she replied shortly.

He glanced up. In the moonlight, he studied her for the first time. She was obviously female; the curve of her hip and flat waist announced it to the world, as did the high breasts that were so carelessly crammed into a boy's tunic. Yet she carried herself with the confidence of a man, and at first, he had mistaken her for one of Elvin kind. However, she lacked the unearthly grace they held. Her grace was different, almost feline. Never in Middle-Earth had he heard an accent like hers, soft and untraceable, but powerful in its own right. The jade shimmer of her eyes glowed in the night, the pale complexion demanded attention, though her personality suggested otherwise. So many contradictions in such a young woman startled him, or conceivably the tortured look of her gaze in that moment she had looked to the moon. She ran her fingers through her raven hair, lifting it momentarily, and then letting the locks fall clumsily around her shoulders again.

If there was one thing Trinity could not stand, it was scrutiny. This Strider felt himself important enough to study her, and so she returned the favor. His clothing and dirty appearance were easy enough to see through. Mainly his attitude led her to believe that he held some importance that he wished to escape from. Ranger, with tangled brown hair and watchful blue eyes, those were the features she expected from them. His words were different, noble and spoken like a request rather than a command. He was strong, and capable, she sensed the potential of a future leader. Subjected to her blank gaze, Strider stiffened. A shadow of dark humor eclipsed her pretty features.

"Not so amusing, being the one studied like a freak, is it?" the tone of voice, though impassive, was threatening. He couldn't think of why.

Before he could respond, a screech of immense proportions sent him running. And to his astonishment, he found Trinity was much faster than he. Already, she ran ahead of him, boots slamming in the dirt as she raced to the source. She froze upon reaching the source, her eyes wide with momentary alarm. Shadows of men attacked the Hobbits, swords flashed, menacing. Strider pushed past her, blade drawn, and at once threw his assault. She marveled at how easy the war actions came to him, her own hand tugged the knife out of her book, but she knew it would not be enough. In her peripheral vision, she saw the small fire the hobbits had started. Without thinking, she snatched a branch out of the wood pile and set the flames on it quickly. She screamed Strider's name and threw the flaming branch to him. He hurled it at one cloaked figure, which loomed over Frodo's gasping shape. Stillness rose, broken by Sam's desperate plea.

"Help him, Strider!"

The Ranger glanced at Trinity, then to Merry and Pippin, silently telling her to tend to them while he dealt with Frodo. They were frozen, a few feet away; eyes open wide and glassy with fear. Trinity knelt to their level and held Pippin tightly by both arms, holding him together. The poor thing looked on the verge of tears.

"Do not panic," she whispered to them both, and then glanced back at Strider.

He held up the sword that had stabbed Frodo. The blade turned to dust.

Strider swooped him up suddenly, muttering something about Elvish medicine. Trinity caught Pippin's hand and dragged him behind her, Merry on their heels as they followed Strider into the woods. Sam was in a terror, near sobbing as he exclaimed how far from Rivendell they were. She did her best to hush him, and Strider set Frodo down gently in the shadow of a few interesting looking statues. Sam loomed over him, offering comforting words and memories. Strider looked around them, trying to estimate how the Nazgul followed.

"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked suddenly.

The Ranger whipped around, "He's passing into the Shadow World, he will soon become a Wraith like them."

Trinity looked down at him, into the milky film that slowly covered his eyes and thought clearly: _this is impossible_. She would be involved, no matter what, because she hadn't the strength to let the little Hobbit go. Strider and Sam's words faded in and out. Kingsfoil, slow, poisoning, they meant nothing to her. The Ranger gave her one last request to watch over the remaining Hobbits while him and Sam found the weed, she nodded. When they left, she kneeled next to Frodo's side and placed the back of her hand hesitantly on his forehead. His skin was icy, colder than hers. This was not good. A bright glow made her look over at a figure riding toward them; the light seemed to be coming from the woman on the mare, as if it were somehow burrowed in her bones and lit her skin from the inside out. Long dark hair and sapphire eyes were her prominent features, the slightly pointed ears marked her race. An Elf. She spoke, the strange language oddly comforting as Strider spread the weed over Frodo's wound. Her name was Arwen.

"He's not going to last," she said softly, "We must get him to my father."

Strider nodded and lifted the Hobbit, placing him on the horse as Arwen told them of they're situation. Four Wraiths were missing; the other five followed them closely. Trinity frowned as the Elf confessed that she had been following them for two days. She hadn't known. She must have been slipping. Normally, she could hear a pin drop in a noisy room, her years with Scarlette made her inept. Her thoughts stopped as Strider grabbed Arwen's hand. So it was love, or at least desire, that allowed him to trust her with Frodo's life. The Elf left, leaving three concerned and angry Hobbits, an anxious ranger, and an irritated Trinity in her wake.

Sam was the first to yell out: "What're you doin'? Those Wraiths are still out there!"

The look on Strider's face said he knew.


	6. Reunion, An Espisode, And Rivendell

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

_**CERTIFICATE OF DEATH**_

Name: Johnson Margaret Renee

(Last) (First) (Middle)

Sex: **Female** Male

Date of Death: May 22 2003

(Month) (Day) (Year)

Age: 45

Date of Birth: February 19 1958

(Month) (Day) (Year)

Birthplace: Sankham, NY

Marital Status: **Married** Widowed Divorced Never Married

Surviving Spouse: Johnson Craig Mitchell

(Last) (First) (Middle)

Surviving Family: Dezaria Johnson (_daughter_), Lance Johnson (_son_), Patrick Johnson (_son_)

D.O.A: **Yes ** No

Place of Death: Nursing Home **Residence** Other (_specify_

City, Town, or Location of Death: Sankham, NY.

Cause of Death: **Asphyxia due to hanging. Undetermined interval between onset and death.**

Manner of Death: Natural Accident **Suicide** Pending Investigation Could not be determined 

Identified By: Night Trinity Erin  (_friend/hired nanny_)

(Last) (First) (Middle)

Method of Disposition: Burial **Cremation** Removal from site Donation Other (_specify_)

Doctor: Samantha Truman, M.D.

Coroner: William Harrington

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Trinity stared at the dirt, following Strider without a word. In her mind, she could see her friend's body hanging from the front doorway, dangling, one loafer still barely attached to one foot and the other with only a starched white sock to cover it. Her head lolled to the side, dark blue eyes open wide and unseeing, and their bare look magnified by the thick, rounded glasses frames. Red, graying hair pulled neatly back into a French twist, not a wisp out of place. Exactly the way Margaret would have wanted to die. Clean, after all, cleanliness is next to godliness, wasn't it? The note said she hung herself as a gift. _The note, the note, the note_. The note Trinity never let Dezaria read, because she didn't want her to know. Didn't want her to know that Margaret meant for her daughter to find her body; she hung herself an hour before Dezaira came home from school. Trinity wasn't supposed to work that day, but came anyway, she was glad. She saved Dezzy from that sight, from having to call the ambulance, which couldn't help her mother anyway. Craig she couldn't save, Margaret's husband, Dezaria's father, he cried and moaned at the loss. So had Scarlette, Destiny, even Faith mourned. But Trinity never cried, never said much. It was her who made the decisions about Margaret's body, her who cut its heavy mass down and called the ambulance and made the choice to cremate her. Because she felt guilty.

_Her death was my doing. Their deaths were her doing. Can't sleep, too much screaming. Too much spilt blood._

_No_. Trinity stopped thinking.

The Hobbits provided a suitable distraction; their chattering proved enough to keep her thoughts away from guilt. They had been traveling in sullen silence for a few days now, and Strider became even quieter than before, answering questions with single worded answers, all vague. She began to reply to a few of the Hobbits' inquisitive nature, and though she said very little, they looked pleased with themselves. Especially Pippin, who had made it point to understand why in Middle-Earth she refused to drink.

"I have a quick temper. Alcohol makes it quicker," she had said shortly.

He nodded in understanding, "One of the ol' farmers was the same. He drank, though, wasn't very nice at all!"

They reached Rivendell about six days after Frodo's incident. Trinity had been stunned by the architecture at first, then slightly perturbed. _Vanity, Vanity, all is vanity_. It was written in the pillars, scratched into the marbled floors. They liked things beautiful, these Elves. And pure, yes, pure. They would hate her, she was sure of it. Corrupted, that was what Margaret called her. A Bad Influence, according to Faith. Frightening, said Scarlette. Gods, why was she friends with them?

_They took me in, when they should have left me to rot_.

Oh…yes, that was why. Because they cared, and they didn't ask questions.

But this was digression.

An Elf called Lord Elrond greeted them, assuring them all Frodo was well. Tall, with long brown hair and dark eyes, he seemed a natural leader, or perhaps just an elder. Fine clothes and a proud posture marked him as one not to be trifled with. He led them into the city, where the wizard awaited them. Gandalf, she recalled. A feeble looking old man, with gray hair and a long beard, his robes were too long. His voice boomed with a hidden power. He greeted the Hobbits one by one, then Strider, then turned to Trinity.

"I believe we've found something that belongs to you," he chuckled.

She frowned.

Someone screamed her name with a thick Spanish accent. Trinity whipped around to see Scarlette's tanned body rushing at her, an intricately patterned blue dress flared out at her heels. She threw her arms around Trinity and sobbed loudly, Trinity noted with a slight bit of entertainment that her face was not caked with cosmetics. Carefully, she returned the embrace while the Hobbits watched her with astonishment.

"Stop crying," she ordered Scarlette softly.

Scarlette pulled away, sniffing, "Why are you dressed like un chico?"

Sam ran to Frodo's bedside immediately after their greetings, and had very rarely left his friend's side. Strider wandered, keeping to himself, but appeared at ease here, as if he belonged. Pippin and Merry found this new city to be a great and entertaining adventure, and they were the first of the group to familiarize themselves with it. Trinity; however, remained with Scarlette the entire time.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," Scarlette confessed some time later, when they finally sat alone. A stone bench in a pretty garden seemed the right choice for such a reunion.

"As though I could leave you alone, clearly you don't know how much trouble you are," Trinity replied with her old smirk.

Scarlette's delighted laughter chimed, striking a thankful note in Trinity's heart.

"Are the others here?" Trinity asked.

"No. I have no idea where they went. I thought you were all dead."

Her heart faltered, "What have you told the wizard?"

"Gandalf? Todo," Scarlette caught Trinity's sharp look and faltered, "I'm sorry! I was so scared, you know. I just wanted to see you guys again and I thought he could help."

Trinity put her head in her hands, "They know we do not belong."

"They would've figured it out anyway…"

This was why Trinity had faith in only Dezaria.

"Yes, but we could have prolonged that discovery. There's no telling what happens now that they know. What are the chances they can assist us, Scarlette? Do you think at all?"

Scarlette looked exceptionally hurt. She jerked her head away, and tears splashed out of her bright eyes. The sun glinted harshly of the dyed red hair.

"Don't," Trinity whispered, reaching her hand out as if to touch her face, but drew it back, "Don't cry. I..."

She didn't know what else to say, so she let the silence stretch before them.

"I'm sorry," Scarlette whispered finally. Trinity stared at her evenly.

"About before," she explained awkwardly, "I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, with Dezzy there. I was a mess, it was stupid-"

"Stop it, Scarlette. If anything, I should apologize to you."

Silence.

"Are you ever going to apologize?"

"No," Trinity replied with an innocent shrug, "but I should."

Scarlette let out a round of laughter, but Trinity did not join in with her. Instead, she froze, tilting her head to the side, her eyes focused just beyond her friend. Somewhere in the distance, the sound of horses' footsteps echoed. Scarlette didn't hear it, nor did Trinity expect her to. She watched Trinity's face warily, wondering what was happening. She'd always been gifted in recognizing danger.

"What's the matter?"

Trinity met her eyes briefly, then shook her head with a frown, holding up one finger and turning her fathomless gaze away from Scarlette again. _One__moment_, the gestures said, _let me think_. Scarlette allowed it, her heart thumping rapidly in her chest, knocking against her skin so hard that it hurt.

She lowered her voice to a whisper, "Trinity, babe, what's going on?"

She ran, the wind whipping her black hair behind her and her boots creating a harsh rhythm against the floor. Scarlette couldn't keep up with her, even if she had tried. Trinity saw horses in the distance; figures removed themselves from their saddles with purpose and awe, glancing around. One of them rested his eyes on her for a moment, then looked around with a slight smile, at the sunlit structures and the shadows cast around him in the shape of the trees. Trinity turned away and started back to Scarlette, wondering what had driven her to flee like that, but she already knew. Parts of a secret conversation drifted to her, making her dizzy.

"It is in men that we must place our hope."

"It is because of men that the ring survives."

"I was there the day the strength of men failed."

"He has chosen exile."

_Exile_. She knew the meaning of that word. She _felt_ the meaning of that word.

_Estel_. The name hung in midair before her, _Aragorn_, both the names were unfamiliar. Yet they worked themselves into her mind, penetrating the defenses she had spent so many years constructing. It made no sense. Thoughts slammed into her mind. _Love. Hate. Death. Blood. Scream. Struggle._ She stumbled clumsily through the city, her hands thrown out before her like a blind woman. A figure caught her, soothing, calming. Scarlette had finally caught up, alarmed at Trinity's outburst, and hoped to help.

"Trin, sweetie, it's okay."

She wasn't crying, or screaming, but gasping.

"First the blood, then the power," she whispered in hysterics, and then went limp.

Scarlette felt the sudden surrender, the weight of her body as Trinity gave in to whatever jumped on her. She struggled to gain her footing, her arms wrapped tightly around her friend. This wasn't so unusual, since Scarlette found her, Trinity had sometimes fallen into the same kind of unexpected hysterical fits. That was partially responsible for her calling Trinity a bad influence. That and –

"What happened?" A soft voice made her look up. Over the duration of her stay, Scarlette hadn't seen this man. His dirty blond hair was shoulder length and thin, brown eyes glinted at her with concern.

"It's nothing," she replied hastily, a little breathless from the weight, "She does this sometimes. She's a little loca, crazy, you know."

He nodded, though he did not understand what she said, and extended his arm to help, "Please, allow my assistance."

Scarlette grinned flirtatiously, "Sure, thanks."

The man gave her an indulgent smile before taking Trinity in his arms. Her head tilted back, mouth open slightly, and he stared down at her unconscious face. He lifted his hand and rand his thumb over the soft flesh under her lower lip and lifted her completely. Scarlette stiffened at his brazen display. Somehow, even unconscious, Trinity got all the men. If she had been awake, this man would've been knocked on his back by now.

"She doesn't have a room yet, but you can take her to mine," Scarlette explained before leading the way.

He followed silently, eyes traveling from the woman in his arms to the other leading the way. And he found with slight confusion that he wanted them both. The red haired one seemed easy enough to bed, inviting, with pretty eyes and generous lips. The other, the sleeping one, was stunning, but seemed more of a challenge to bed. Scarlette opened the door to her room and invited him inside; he obeyed, angling himself to protect the girl from hitting her head on the doorframe. Slowly, he laid her out on the wide bed. He looked back at the other woman.

"I'm Scarlette, by the way," announced the red headed woman, she jerked her chin the girl on the bed, "And that's Trinity. Thank you for your help."

He smiled before walking over to her and taking her hand, "I am Boromir, and it was no trouble." Lightly, he pressed his lips against the back of her hand, smiling.

She laughed a little, tossing her head back to give him a nice view of the tender throat. Someone knocked at the door and she made a face, displeased that someone would interrupt her seduction. With an annoyed grunt, she flung it open. Her originally fuming expression melted into one of pleasant surprise. Gandalf smiled at her.

"Scarlette, my dear, I beg forgiveness if I interrupted anything."

She shook her head with a smile, "You can interrupt anytime, Gandalf. How can I help you?"

"It seems you're keeping a few of our council members captive," he replied with a good natured chuckle, "I've come to retrieve them."

Boromir gave her a sight smile, "Until next time, My Lady."

Trinity did not move.

Scarlette put her hands behind her back and stood there uncomfortably, "Trinity had a minor…episode, I'll send her when she gets up."

Gandalf nodded in understanding, she had informed him of her friend's eccentric behavior, and left with Boromir in tow.


	7. The Fellowship

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

Gandalf and Boromir walked in silence through the halls, both distracted with their own thoughts. They reached their destination, and Boromir dutifully took his seat. Lord Elrond looked around slowly before focusing his gaze on the wizard.

"May we begin?"

They had been sitting there for quite some time, the Dwarves were restless and the Elves whispered amongst themselves.

Gandalf shook his head slowly, "I'm afraid not, it seems one council member had a minor event and will be a bit delayed – ah, here she is now. Greetings, Trinity."

Trinity approached them slowly, hair pulled back into a loose braid, any hint of insanity tucked neatly away in the farthest corner of her mind. She gave Elrond a slight incline of the head before nodding politely to Gandalf. With quick strides, she settled herself in an empty seat next to Frodo. Boromir followed her every move like she was his prey, one of the Dwarves shifted in his seat.

"Strangers from distant lands," Elrond began, "Friends of old, you have been summoned here to answer the threat of Mordor. Middle-Earth stands upon the brink of destruction, none can escape it. You will unite or you will fall. Each race is bound to this fate, this one doom."

The entire council exchanged glances, from the Elves to the Dwarves to the Men, their expressions read that unity was something not easily gained. Trinity leaned back, crossing her legs at the ankles and her arms across her chest.

"Bring forth the ring, Frodo."

Trinity looked at him and he looked back nervously. She put a comforting hand on his arm, which seemed to give him the strength to continue. Slowly, the little Hobbit rose and walked to the middle of the room. He set the golden ring on the stone tablet there and returned to his seat. The man called Boromir whispered something faintly that she did not catch, Strider; however, gave him a sidelong glance. Frodo looked relieved to have escaped the ring for a moment, again Trinity found herself laying a hand on his arm gently. Then, something happened. Boromir rose.

"In a dream, I saw the eastern sky grow dark," his voice was a combination of awe and desire, "but in the west, a pale light lingered. A voice was crying that doom was near at hand. So Isildur's bane is found-"

He was creeping nearer to the ring, Gandalf and Elrond shared a look of brief concern.

"Isildur's bane," Boromir whispered again, reaching for the ring.

Elrond stood from his seat, hollering the man's name. Gandalf stood as well, though what he hollered was entirely different. There was a forbidden sound to it, as the sky fell dark and stirred with fell voices. Trinity flinched, pain bursting through her skull as though she were hit by a blunt object. Her chair shook. When her vision righted itself, Elrond was scolding the wizard for his words. She barely caught the old one's response.

"I do not ask your pardon, Master Elrond," said Gandalf with heavily as he sat himself down once again, "For the black speech of Mordor may yet be heard in every corner of the west. The ring is all together evil."

"It is a gift," Boromir told them breathlessly, "A gift to the foes of Mordor. Why not use this ring? Long has my father, the Steward of Gondor, kept the forces of Mordor at bay! By the blood of _our_ people, your lands kept safe! Give Gondor the weapon of the enemy. Let us use it against him!"

Trinity already thought him a fool.

"You cannot wield it! None of us can! The One Ring answers to Sauron alone, it has no other master," Strider interjected.

"And what would a ranger know of this matter?"

An Elf stood, outraged, "This is no mere ranger! This is Aragorn-"

Trinity inhaled sharply. Aragorn, Estel, Strider, each name belonged to him. It made sense now, that she should know each one. He tried to hide himself, his true identity. Strider – Aragorn – looked at her quizzically, no doubt hearing the gasp. The Elf looked at her as well, his azure eyes resting plainly on her face for a moment, a strange look on his face, but he turned his head away and fixed Boromir with a steely glare once again.

Boromir seemed taken aback, "Aragorn? This is Isildur's heir?"

"And heir to the throne of Gondor," the Elf finished.

"Havo dat, Legolas," Aragorn mumbled.

_Sit down_. Trinity frowned and looked at the floor. How did she know that?

"Gondor has no king," Boromir finished, "Gondor needs no king."

With his profound statement made, Boromir sat and glared. _Juvenile_, thought Trinity scornfully. She stole a glance at Aragorn, who seemed even tempered as always.

Gandalf leaned forward in his seat. "Aragorn is right. We cannot use it."

"You have only one choice, the Ring must be destroyed," Elrond proclaimed.

A moment of silence held before a red headed and hot tempered Dwarf stood, axe in hand. "What are we waiting for?" He boomed before swinging it heavily on the ring.

It shattered into a thousand pieces.

Frodo flinched and put a hand to his head as if in pain. Trinity's arm wrapped around him, a frown on her face. The Dwarf looked amazed.

"The Ring cannot be destroyed, Gimli son of Gloin, by any craft that we here posses. The Ring was made in the fires of Mount Doom and only there can it be unmade. It must be taken deep into Mordor and cast back deep into the fiery chasm from whence it came! One of you must do this."

"One doesn't simply walk into Mordor. Its black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs. There's evil there that does not sleep and the Great Eyes if ever watchful. 'Tis but a wasteland, whittled with fire and ash and dust. The very air you breathe is a poisonous fume. Not with ten thousand men could you do this, it is folly." Boromir's point rang through.

The Elf, Legolas, did not deny it. But argued all the same, "Have you heard nothing Lord Elrond just said! The ring must be destroyed!"

"And I suppose you think you're the one to do it!" cried Gimli.

The shouted began, each Elf, Dwarf, Human became involved. _Childish_, Trinity thought again, her arm tightening around Frodo's shoulders. Gandalf joined in, his powerful voice melted into the song of the others, hardly noticeable. A handful of them remained in their seats, Lord Elrond, Trinity, and Frodo among them. The Hobbit's eyes were focused solely on the ring. She shook him a little and he blinked, glancing at her first, then the yelling before him.

He lifted himself out of the chair and called into the fight: "I will take it! I will take it! I will take the Ring to Mordor."

The crowd went silent and turned to face him, Gandalf wore an almost pained expression.

"I do not know the way," Frodo confessed to them.

Gandalf went to stand next to the Hobbit, "I will help you help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, so long as it is yours to bear."

Aragorn stood next, "By my life, or death, if I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."

"And you have my bow," Legolas added.

"And my axe," the Elf did not seemed too pleased about Gimli's contribution.

"You carry the fate of us all, little one. If this is indeed the will of the council, then Gondor will see it done," Boromir joined them.

"Hey!" A small form burst from the bushes, "Mister Frodo's not goin' anywhere without me!" Samwise grinned widely at his friend.

Elrond rose an eyebrow, "No, indeed it is hardly possible to separate you, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

As if on cue, Pippin and Merry ran into the room.

"Wait! We're comin' too! You'll have to send us home tied up in a sack to stop us."

"Anyway, you need people of intelligence on his sort of mission….quest…thing."

"Well that rules you out, Pip."

Lord Elrond looked at them all, left to right, and smiled at their bravery. "Nine companions-"

"Ten," Trinity said with her soft accent. She rose from her chair, "Ten companions."

She knelt down to the Frodo's height and stared into his large cobalt eyes. "You helped me, and so I will help you. I offer you whatever there is I may offer. That is, if you accept it." A smile would have been present, had she the ability to make one anymore. Nevertheless, he saw the almost eager glint in her eyes.

"I'll have it no other way," replied the young Hobbit with a pleased smile.

"So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring," Elrond continued.

"Right," Pippin grinned, "Where are we going?"

----------------

"I'm coming with you."

"No, Scarlette, you must stay here."

"But _why_?"

"I've already said."

"Tell me again."

Trinity sighed; still busy choosing a suitable weapon for the long journey ahead. Scarlette was being rather difficult about the entire thing, telling Trinity simply that she was coming with her, whether she wanted it or not. But it would not work, Scarlette would die, Trinity was sure. She had told her something else, so as to not frighten her, and hated repeating herself. Already, Scarlette had thrown a fit, screaming and crying, and now she was standing across the room from her. The bed put a safe distance between them, not that Scarlette would be able to hurt Trinity anyway. Dried tears made her cheeks look dirty, her cheeks crimson from the force and effort of her sobs.

"I cannot take you."

"Bitch"

"Whore," the response from Trinity was automatic. It held no hostility behind it.

Scarlette began to cry again, "_Please_! Please take me with you! Don't leave me here all alone, again."

"You're forty years old, Scarlette, and you are acting like a child. These people are kind to you and you easily make friends, so there is no real argument. You don't care about being left alone; you're just being stubborn because you are not getting your own way."

The truth stung her, she resented it. "That's not it!"

"Liar."

Silence for a moment, until, "You look like the Whore of Babylon."

Trinity clenched her teeth together, shoving a few more weapons wherever she could conceal them. They Elves had given her a new outfit, leggings included. It was much too intricate to her, but she wore it all the same. The bodice dipped low enough to make out some cleavage, and the corset was drawn tight to display her small waist. Her leggings showed open flesh on the hips, drawn together with loose ties. Dark leather boots and bracers completed the highly feminine look, and her hair was even tied back into a long braid still. She felt like the Whore of Babylon. Exposed and shameless.

She grabbed the sack off the bed and left to slam a few provisions into it. When she returned to the bedroom, Scarlette was sitting on the bed, closely examining her hands. Trinity sheathed two small swords on either hip, connected to her belt, and turned to leave.

"I'm sorry."

Trinity froze, her hand on the door.

_I'm sorry too_.

"When I find Destiny, Faith, and Destiny, I will bring them back with me. Do not do anything foolish when I'm gone, alright?" Trinity glanced back to see her answer.

Scarlette nodded once, then stood shakily. "I want to see you leave."

----------------

Once again, the Fellowship was under Lord Elrond's gaze. "The Ring Bearer is setting out a quest to Mount Doom, and you who travel with him – no oath nor bond is laid to go further than you will. Farewell, hold to your purpose may the blessing of Elves, Men, and all free folk go with you."

Trinity looked at Scarlette one last time before Frodo led the way.


	8. The The One Ring and Crashing Mountains

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

--

The journey was long, and tiring. Each companion seemed proud enough to be by Frodo's side, they held the sense that they were involved in something important, perilous. The Hobbits were the worst, always questioning and so energetic. The other nine were tolerable; at least they knew enough to keep some distance between themselves and Trinity. While the others seemed to be friendly toward each other, Trinity stayed away.

_It is safer this way._

True. The farther she kept from the others, the easier it would be to leave.

_Or die. _

Yes, or die.

The wizard posed a threat. Gandalf, that was his name, she recalled it easily. She never forgot a name. Scarlette called it paranoia, but Trinity preferred to think of it as common sense. He kept looking at her and it made her uneasy. With every glance, he made her more and more present, real. She could not fade away when he included her. He knew this, he clung to it. Something dark stirred inside her that put the Fellowship at risk. If he could reach her, if anything could reach her, then perhaps the threat would vanish. But each time he said her name, motioned for her to follow; she looked at him with those empty eyes, as if she had forgotten how to feel. She was compliant enough, for now.

"Scarlette told me of you."

Trinity spun around to identify the voice that had spoken.

_Scarlette doesn't know anything of me._

Gandalf smiled, wrinkles gathered at the corners of his eyes. The others had made camp, and the Elf had volunteered to take the first watch. It was late, and dark, so she thought it the opportune moment to slip into the surrounding forest unnoticed. Apparently, there would be no rest for tonight. She turned away.

"Your mind is only a fragment of what it used to be, isn't it Trinity?"

_Holding a gun to his head. Bang, Bang. Body dropping to the floor. Scarlette screaming. _

Silence, much too common of her.

Talking to this woman was like conversing with a corpse.

Gandalf sighed heavily, "You cannot hide your sickness forever. If you'll allow it, we can help."

_Strapped to a chair. Pins._

Her jaw set, something flashed in her eyes.

She shut down her memories.

"Believe me when I say that you put us all at risk," he continued, "Sauron can sense those who are willing to succumb-"

"Succumb," Trinity tasted bitterness, "I succumb to nothing, to no one. Your Sauron is not my concern."

"He is the main concern; his destruction ensures the safety of Middle-Earth. Do not lose sight of what this quest stands for."

"I haven't lost my sight," she snapped suddenly, teeth and fists clenched dangerously.

Gandalf could sense pain and rage, "Calm yourself, Trinity. I mean no menace toward you."

She blinked, eyes slowly returning to that infamous state of ambivalence.

And then, she walked away.

Legolas could hear her enter, and though the previous conversation had been missed, he felt something troubling the girl. He watched her fine form, the way her arms crossed at the chest, and a memory came to him. Slowly, his nimble fingers reached for the neckline of his tunic and tugged distractedly on the silver chain there. Evalgine's ring hung delicately from it, begging to be touched, to be remembered.

Trinity looked at him once, and he saw the first glimpse of emotion from her. She hated him. She hated everything.

----------------

The sun rose, revealing the rocky mountainous plateau of their camp. Aragorn woke first, or so he thought. As he set more wood on the fire, he glanced up to see Gandalf sitting on a boulder, smoking his pipe with a pensive glint in his eye. The ranger smiled in greeting, then glanced around. Legolas slowly maneuvered through the rocks, Elvin eyes trained on the land. The Hobbits slept peacefully, Boromir dozed nearby, and Gimli's snores could not be escaped. Trinity was absent.

"Where is Trinity?" He called out loud.

"Here," said a quiet voice behind him.

He turned to see her in the shadows; she came forward with her arms full of wood. She dropped it near the fire and retreated to the rock farthest from them. Aragorn glanced at Legolas, silently telling him to treat the situation. The Elf nodded once before working his way to the woman. She stared up at him, and watched him lower himself to her level. His cerulean eyes studied her coolly.

"You should not wander alone," he whispered. His voice was cool and smooth.

Trinity looked at him steadily, "I can fend for myself."

A faint smile touched his lips, "I've no doubt of that. But dangers lurk here that are beyond your capability and we do not want you harmed."

_As though it matters._

"Thank you for your concern, Master Greenleaf." Trinity pushed herself away from the rock's solidity.

He watched her leave, certain that she would not heed his advice, and felt an overwhelming need to protect her. The thought of her bleeding wounded him in some mysterious way; however, the Elf was not the only one who felt this way.

Trinity walked back into the camp, body followed by brown eyes. Boromir smiled as she leaned down to place more wood on the fire and caught a glimpse of white breasts beneath the wine colored fabric. Her eyes caught his. They blazed with lust and heat.

"Good morning, my lady," he said with a knowing smile.

She straightened.

"Good morning, Boromir," her tone was one of silent scolding. He chose to ignore it and moved his attention to the Hobbits.

Trinity observed their interactions. The man fit in among them without difficulty, laughing and joking. Soon he taught Merry and Pippin the art of sword fighting. Aragorn sat close to them, providing occasional advice in the form of a short command. Gimli and Gandalf settled away from the others and, to everyone's surprise, Trinity walked with Legolas. Together they scouted, not exactly speaking, but communicating in different ways.

Legolas ran forward suddenly, watching the sky with great attention.

Trinity stood next to him, and leaned to whisper in his ear, "What is it?"

Her breath was hot.

He answered, but she could not hear him, she was too focused on the group of birds flying toward them with surprising speed. She seemed hypnotized by them, and they reflected in the emerald coloring of her irises, dancing. Aragorn warned the others to hide, grabbing objects and dousing the fire as he ran for cover. Boromir took the Hobbits as Gimli and Gandalf hide behind the stones. Legolas glanced at a brush and started toward it. Midway, he halted and glanced back to see Trinity still standing there, her head tilted to the side and her eyes glazed. An image of her bleeding entered his mind, and so he ran back to her. Legolas gripped her wrist and pulled her into the brush, his body covered hers instinctively, and an instant satisfaction rested over him. Without thought he had fulfilled the need to protect her, and it seemed enough for now.

Trinity looked up at him with muffled shock and fear. He swallowed, wishing that he could apologize. The birds passed, screeching, faster than arrows from a bow. The finely pointed ears listened for a moment, and when there was not a sound around them, Legolas pulled himself up and offered her his hand. She stared at it for a moment with that same frightened expression, and then shook her head, sitting up slowly. Gandalf was speaking, so he left her there in favor of the wizard. He would apologize at a later time.

_Lips and teeth and tongue._

Trinity closed her eyes and shook her head.

Legolas returned to her and stifled his surprise when he saw her in the same position. Sitting in the dirt, hair tied back, but mussed. A few strands hung in her face. He expected her to be standing, cursing him.

"Are you alright?" he asked her softly.

She stared blankly up at him, "Fine. I am fine. What's happening?"

"We are taking a different passage," he murmured while helping her stand, "The south is under Sauron's watch."

----------------

The pass was covered in snow. White. Pure. Something about snow made Trinity loathe it. Perhaps it was how easily corrupted it could be, with only a few drops of blood, it had the potential to turn red. And evil. Or perhaps – just perhaps – it was merely because the muffled voice of someone played out in her head, telling her to hate things for motivation. The cold wetness surrounded her knees, she tripped.

_Get on your feet. Hack. Slash. Kill. Cut._

She stood and watched the Fellowship struggle through the snow ahead of her, with the exception of Legolas, who walked on top of it as though it were sturdy ground. Frodo fell and rolled a few feet, caught expertly by Aragorn. The Hobbit's fingers searched his neck and chest desperately, then looked to see the ring shine under the soft flurries. Boromir's gloved hand picked it up slowly, cradling it like the most precious thing in Middle-Earth. Trinity exhaled slowly.

"Boromir," Aragorn tested him, gauged his reaction.

It was not as he hoped.

"It is a strange fate that we should suffer so much fear and doubt over so small a thing," he breathed.

The ring hypnotized him.

His mouth agape, the man whispered, "such a little thing."

"Boromir," shouted Aragorn, "Give the Ring to Frodo."

He did not give the ring to Frodo.

But with one last longing look, he dropped it to the ground and turned away saying, "I care not."

Trinity picked it up carefully by the chain, inspecting the power. To her, it truly did not matter. She looked away from its golden form long enough to see Aragorn's hand travel to the hilt of his sword. A moment of pain gripped her. The ring was delivered safely into Frodo possession. With slow steps and an unreadable expression, Trinity dropped the ring into the palm of his hand and curled his fingers around it.

_Compromised control._

"You must not lose sight of this, Little One," she whispered with a slightly amused expression, "You hold our fate in your hands."

She turned back to the others to see them studying her with tense eyes. Gimli grunted with a kind of approval, easily satisfied by the fact she had not taken the opportunity to run off with the One Ring. The Hobbits silently agreed, eyes shining with the same trust she had observed in Bree. Gandalf seemed harder to convince, as did Aragorn. Boromir and Legolas would not look at her.

She didn't care.

----------------

The blizzard came with a vengeance. So thick was the snow that it was hard to see. The cold stung their cheeks; any exposed flesh was red and inflamed from the cold. Still they trudged on, pushing through the freezing white substance with vigor. With hope. Trinity moved astonishingly well, despite the burning of her skin. She stood behind Legolas, who treaded lightly on the fallen snow and kept to the lead. A rumble set through the air, below their feet. Trinity staggered, but was caught by the Elf. The last thing she heard was the crunching of rocks upon snow before the mountain crashed around them.


	9. Mines, Lust, and a Nasty Beast

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

**NOTE TO READERS:** I am trying my best to familiarize myself with the format of this website. Please forgive me if you find many errors or think my paragraphs are too long.

--

Legolas was the first to break free of the snow that threatened to suffocate them all. He shook his head wildly and white flakes flew from his fine blond hair. Gathering his bearings, the Elf realized he still held something in his hand. Packed deep under the bits of mountain, something throbbed weakly against his fingertips. It took him an instant to comprehend the feeling.

It was a pulse, feeble, but there. Not just a pulse, but Trinity's. Around him, the rest of the Fellowship popped out of the snow, one by one. He followed their example and dug himself out with one hand, still clutching the unmoving form with the other. The others did not realize the struggle that ensued, as Legolas tried desperately to pull Trinity out into the open air by her freezing wrist. The pulse slowed to a stop. Her hand slipped away.

_Mama, it's so dark. I am cold and bleeding. _

Trinity woke in a cold womb. Lost, forgotten, her eyes opened and saw only darkness. Clenching her teeth, she thrust upward with one fist and her fingertips were graced with frigid wind. A warm close around it, and drew her up. He looked at her, then, the slow melted against her skin slowly, a few drops moved temptingly down her throat, between her breasts. On her right shoulder was a smudge of blood, he moved to touch and inspect it, but she knocked his hand away.

_**He came back for me.**_

_Shut up._

"Thank you," she whispered lowly.

He smiled briefly and opened his mouth to answer; she pushed past him to join the others. They had started to leave already, only Gimli remained behind. His stout figure relaxed as he watched her walk toward him. A grin passed his face.

"Glad you see you're alright, girl."

Her fathomless eyes looked through him once, then to the others walking away from them, "Glad to see they've waited for me. How polite."

The Dwarf chucked at her dry humor. Legolas studied them both before turning to follow the Fellowship.

----------------

It was not until much later that it was revealed to her where they were heading. Apparently, while she was buried under the snow, they had decided to go through mines. Gimli chattered on about the beauty of these mines, the Mines of Moria, and his cousin who resided there.

They walked in mist and night; mountains surrounded them until, at last, they reached a long side of stone. Gimli started to tap it with his axe every few feet. Trinity threw him a questioning glance.

"Dwarf walls are invisible when closed," he explained.

"Yes, Gimli, even their masters cannot find them," Gandalf continued for him, "if they're secrets are forgotten."

"Why doesn't that surprise me," Legolas murmured with a look of slight arrogance.

Trinity smirked and the Hobbits sniggered with amusement; Gimli only grunted with annoyance. Gandalf broke away then, running his elderly hands over engraved markings in the stone with great care. He whispered something she did not hear, and the moon broke through the clouds.

The markings in the mountain ignited, set aflame by blue light and the effect left her slightly awed. She attempted to keep her face impassive, but knew anyone watching her intently could clearly see the moment of wonder pass her face. Boromir and Legolas did, and both stored the memory in the depths of their minds for a greater occasion.

"It reads," said Gandalf aloud, pointing to the words in the arch with his staff, "the doors of Duilin, Lord of Moria. Speak 'friend' and enter."

"What do you 'spose that means?" called Merry from his spot her.

"Well, it's quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open."

With dramatized gestures, the old wizard pointed his staff at the door and his powerful voice boomed out a few verses. Nothing. He stepped back and raised his arms, shouting another phrase at the stone door. When his arms dropped, an uncomfortable silence took place.

Pippin broke it, "Nothing's happening."

Gandalf blinked before he pressed himself against the wall in a desperate attempt to force its movement. Trinity felt an overwhelming urge to say something sarcastic, but swallowed it. Instead, she exchanged an impatient glance with Pippin as the wizard mumbled his displeasure.

"What are you going to do, then?" Pippin asked innocently.

"Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took," Gandalf snapped, "And if that does not shatter them, then I am at least at a little peace from foolish questions. I will try to find the opening words."

The first hour she could tolerate, but not the second. Trinity wandered off into a slightly forested area to the east, knowing well that she would be followed. Aragorn did not yet trust her. She considered him intelligent for that. Boromir chose to track her, his breath irregular and loud to even her ears, which seemed so deaf to everything else.

It was a long while before he made his presence known and she, not wanting to spoil all his fun, allowed him to capture her wrist in his hand. His grip was tight and painful, but she refused to flinch. Brown eyes undressed her as they surveyed the curves of her body.

Two cerulean eyes watched them carefully from a safe distance away. Keen ears listened carefully to the scene and a troubled conscience attempted to provide enough reason to come between the two.

Legolas did not have the chance.

"So beautiful," whispered the man, his free hand reaching to touch her cheek.

Trinity caught his wrist easily and they stood there for several moments, held by each other. Not a word passed between them, though his eyes wrote volumes, hers said nothing. Boromir smiled that egotistical smile, which said clearly what he meant to do. And he apparently did not need her permission to do it. She warned him with her eyes, but to no avail.

He slammed her against a tree, hands on either side of her head, body pinning hers effectively.

And then, his lips were on her mouth, the tight cloth chocker around her throat.

Legolas sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Trinity turned to unresponsive stone beneath his touch, staring ahead with empty eyes, mouth slightly opened. His hands felt her torso crudely, cold leather against colder skin.

One of his hands reached for her leggings, the other for cloth around her neck.

Her knee connected with his groin and he grunted before stumbling away from her. Trinity drew a few steady breaths, her eyes steely as they studied him. Boromir glared at her, teeth clenched in undisguised pain. She folded her arms across her chest and prepared for the verbal attack. The thought of her earlier attire came to his mind.

"You dress like a man, but that does not make you a warrior," he gasped through the waves of pain in his belly, "You accompany us, but that does not make you part of the Fellowship."

He seemed to collect himself for a moment, and then: "You're nothing. A woman, a whore, taunting with words and actions, yet unwilling to do her duty."

Legolas' jaw tightened, but he did not interfere.

Through the entire stream of accusations, Trinity mere stood there. He slung insults at her, she was a whore, meant to lie down and take money. She was a demon, a seductress who could not perform. Everything insulting he could think of, she had become.

Her eyebrows rose, "Are you done?"

With nothing left to say, nothing left to offend her with, he nodded.

"Good," she admonished, then tilted her head to the side.

"Now it's my turn," she continued, "You are egotistical, but scared, nothing more than a sorry little boy looking for glory that does not exist. You are the favorite of your kingdom, the hero, but here you are not. Easily seduced, by a ring, and a woman who doesn't want you, you do not even recognize yourself."

She leaned down to look into his eyes.

"You have my greatest sympathy," she whispered, "But nothing more."

As she righted herself, she paused suddenly and looked in the direction Legolas hid. A small, knowing smirk crossed her features before she walked away, leaving a humiliated Boromir and a confused Legolas in her wake. He felt slightly uneasy, as though someone was trying to reach him. A muffled voice, choked by something larger.

----------------

Gandalf sat down heavily, "It's hopeless."

Trinity entered the clearing, and turned just in time to spot Legolas join them. An almost amused expression crossed her face, but faded at once. With a soft sigh, she settled next to the wizard, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Boromir emerged from the trees, looking irritated, but not wounded in the least. Frodo rose and stared at the door with searching eyes.

"It's a riddle," said the Hobbit, "Speak 'friend' and enter…what's the Elvish word for friend?"

"Mellonamin," he replied, enunciating deeply.

A low rumbling announced the opening of the heavy stone doors. They stood at once, mouths open slightly. One by one, they entered the dark space. Along the wall, lined up, were piles of bones. Trinity saw them clearly in the darkness, white bones glimmering.

_Lost souls screaming._

The others did not see, did not hear.

Gimli droned on, "Soon, Master Elf, you will enjoy the fabled hospitality of the dwarves. Roaring fires, malt beer, red meat off the bone!"

Legolas made a face of disgust.

"This, my friend," Grimli said proudly, "is the home of my cousin, and they call it a mine. A _mine_!"

The moonlight revealed the skeletons, Boromir observed them with a creased brow.

"This is no mine; it's a tomb," he replied with a sickened expression.

One of the Hobbits began to panic; Trinity could hear his breath increase rapidly. The others seemed to follow their example, and Gimli cried out in sorrow.

"No!"

_No._

"No!"

_Flames licking. Too much sorrow._

Legolas pulled an arrow out of one corpse, inspecting the tip.

"Goblins," he murmured, drawing his bow.

Aragorn and Boromir armed themselves as well. Trinity pulled the twin swords from her belt.

Boromir deemed himself the leader, "We make for the Gap of Rohan, We should never have come here."

Trinity glanced back at the four Halflings, who where moving toward the entrance of the doors. A gasp was cut short.

And then there were only three.

"Aragorn," Trinity cried, running after Frodo and the beast that stole him.

She pushed her was past the Hobbits, knocking Sam to the ground in her haste. Above her, Frodo dangling from what appeared to be a tentacle, crying for assistance. Without thought, she waded into the water and began to hack at anything remotely similar to its appearance.

Aragorn and Boromir joined her, slicing through the monster's limbs with ease and acute precision. An arrow jammed itself into the tentacle that held Frodo. Something slid against her ankle.

She already knew what would happen next.

"Ah, Fu-" her words were choked with water as the beast dragged her down.

Already, she had been knocked down twice.

_You do not back down ever! _

It was Boromir who saved her, despite their minor argument; he could not allow something to kill her. The blade cut through the monster's slimly limb easily and his hand reached for her upper arm. As his fingers wrapped around it, he secretly marveled at the strength, the muscle, he felt. Judging by her form, he would have never guessed her to be that strong.

She burst to the surface, not choking or gasping. No sputter left her lips, for she had been intelligent enough to hold her breath the moment she felt the dreadful thing touch her ankle. Rather, that was what she would tell him later, if he so happened to ask.

Boromir gripped her wrist, leading her past the doors once again, and behind them, the ceiling crashed down.

They were trapped in the dark.


	10. CaveTrolls and Darkness

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

Trinity's eyes adjusted quickly, as obscurity was purely natural to her, like air to greedy lungs. She wondered briefly if any of the others could see in the darkness; her vision suddenly spiked with a bright light, nearly causing her to flinch. Gandalf had lit the crystal of his staff. 

"We now have but one choice," he said in that deep, powerful tone, "We must face the long dark of Moria." 

He began to walk, a slow and steady stride, leaning occasionally on the staff for support. The others followed dutifully, no doubt in their minds that the wizard held more knowledge of this place than even Gimli. At least, they trusted that to be true. All the while, he warned them.

"Be on your guard. There are older and fouler things than Orcs in the deep places of this world." 

The silence with which they walked was solemn, grievous in nature, and Trinity noted with extreme distaste that no matter what the situation, she could feel both Boromir and the Elf's gazes follow her. True, she had twice already been knocked down, but she had stood just as quickly. Always, she was standing and did not require help to do so. Trinity Night held more strength than any of them combined. But they did not know that, for all they could see was a somber woman lost within herself. 

_Without a future. _

_**Or hope. **_

_Yes, or hope._

_**Let me speak with him. **_

_No._

_**Please…**_

_I said no. _

_**Why?**_

She did not need to answer, the irritating voice in her mind already knew. It just aggravated her for fun, something to do when boredom overtook her. Well, it was time for her to move on. This was Trinity's body now, her gift, and the only thing useful that cowering little girl had ever given her.

And Scarlette wondered why Trinity needed that dose of heroine now and then. 

It was because that little girl would not stay quiet; she continually tried to reach out to _him_.

Legolas heard that voice again; the soft cry choked as though a rough hand covered it. With a slight tilt of the head, he listened attentively, hoping that perhaps it would speak again and he could decipher its message.

It did not speak again.

The Fellowship, though, was talking to each other, communicating, transferring information about the Mines and its inhabitants. With a sidelong glance at Trinity, he was almost startled to see her emerald eyes fixed on the stone beneath them. Gazing down like that, she seemed distraught. And angry. 

He wanted to touch her.

And her distracted appearance gave him the perfect opportunity.

His hand reached out and touched her arm, the bare flesh that shined just above the elbow. It was freezing, but soft and somehow inviting. She looked up sharply, her eyes holding his for a moment and then looked away dispassionately. Quickly, he drew his hand away with an apologetic expression. When he looked at humans, at anyone, he could normally read their expression and body language. Occasionally, it sparked sympathy within him. Now it did that with her. Trinity was a mystery, but somehow familiar. It pained him to see her like that.

Physically, he knew she resembled his Evalgine, he had seen it in her gaze in Rivendell. Those eager eyes, the playful smirk, it all seemed as though it had taken place only yesterday. A thousand years was a long time, and still he could remember her scent. And taste. Briefly, he wondered if she – Trinity – tasted the same, like rain in the spring, sweet and innocent. 

He glanced at Frodo and shame filled him immediately. Already, he had forgotten the task at hand, his promise to assist the Hobbit in his duty. Thoughts drifted to and from him, memories of his father's worry when he had returned after Evalgine's death, the question of why this woman standing near him look so painfully like his former love, a stab of pain caused his heart to falter.

Though his emotional turmoil left him in shatters, his face was impassive. 

He would not fail Frodo the same way he had failed Evalgine.

Boromir watched her shadow, the grace with which she moved left him completely captivated. Perhaps it was merely lust, as she had guessed, but something had driven him to her that day. He had been called, by some invisible force, to yield to her. To love her. 

But she would not allow it. 

She was strong, stubborn, this woman. Not inviting, like her giggling friend. Presently, Trinity peered over her shoulder at him, her expression dead. Those lifeless lips had told him his darkest fears. Seduction, though not the first task of his duty, came in close second. Despite her harsh words to him earlier, he had not lost hope.

Sooner or later, she would be in his arms, if only for one night. 

He told himself one night would be enough; he knew it was a lie.

Gandalf stopped in a room filled with bones, his blue eyes weary. The Fellowship stood behind him, casting each other questioning glances. Trinity felt one of the Hobbits touch her hip uncertainly; his eyes large and so innocent; she leaned down with her expressionless gaze and ruffled Pippin's hair affectionately before joining Gandalf. 

Her hand rested loosely on his shoulder. 

"I have no memory of this place," he confided in her. 

She nodded slowly, "I see no threat here and the Hobbits are restless. We should rest, for now, while you gain your bearings." 

Those wise blue eyes studied their surroundings, then the woman at his side. 

"Yes," Gandalf murmured, "yes, that is a fine idea." 

Her slender hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly, the gesture saying that they had faith in him, before she walked back to the group. 

"Light a fire," she said, her soft accented tone made the command seem less domineering. 

Aragorn nodded at her, and then turned to instruct the others.

Gandalf was thinking deeply, poised on a bit of stone with impossible grace and stamina, given his age. His back was turned to the others, head bowed. Contemplating. Boromir and Aragorn sat together, as did Sam, Merry, and Pippin. Frodo sat a little closer to the wizard, an automatic response since, Trinity reasoned, they seemed close enough to be kin. Legolas leaned leisurely against a rock. Gimli and Trinity sat on the ground, inching close to the fire. There were few opportunities in her life that allowed her to be warmed, and this was one she would not let pass her by.

The air hung with smoke, a combination of the fire and both Gimli and Aragorn's pipes. Longingly, Trinity watched the smoke curl from the wooden object. Years ago, Scarlette had made her swear to stop that 'nasty habit' of smoking. With the exception of a rare relapse, usually on her birthday, Trinity had been faithful to that oath. 

Now, more than anything, she wished she could feel the nicotine rushing out her lungs, cooling her brain. Gimli caught the desire in her eye, and offered her the pipe with a meaningful grin. 

"I know _that_ look, girl, nice and hot for you," he grunted. 

Legolas watched her take it into her slender hands. She rose it her to lips and inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Then, she lowered the mouthpiece and exhaled slowly, a smirk on her full lips. The smoke lingered, as though unwilling to leave her presence. Legolas did not blame it. Sighing contentedly, she fingered the wooden pipe for a moment, studying the fine craftsmanship. 

She handed it back to the Dwarf, "It's beautiful."

"Dwarven woodwork, there's nothing like it," Gimli said with a proud smile, "Looked like you enjoyed it, all right." 

Judging by the look on Boromir's face, Aragorn guessed he would much rather have been the object she had held in her hands. The ranger shook his head in amazement. Only a few movements, and one moment of weakness, had led at least three members of the Fellowship to lust after her. 

Trinity opened her mouth as if to speak, but shrugged carelessly instead. 

Words revealed too much. It was better to fade away gradually, not let them become emotionally involved. She rose and chose to lean idly against a rock a few feet from them, stretching her long legs. Hoping no one would disturb her, she bent down to fix the placement of the dagger hidden in her left boot. A show loomed over, and she gripped the hilt of the blade, casting her eyes upward to see if the figure was a threat. 

With a sigh, she loosened her hand and straightened, hands clasped neatly behind her back. 

"There is no such thing as failure to you, is there, Boromir?" 

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, "I suppose not." 

Her tongue flicked over her upper lip in thought; she moved closer to him, causing a sweet scent to fill his nostrils. 

Leaning forward, she whispered into his ear, "I am not helpless. Must I remind you again?" 

"A minor delay." Boromir's head spun, a dangerous combination of her scent and cool breath. It took much control to keep his voice even and his eyes on hers. 

A smile crossed her face, cruel and teasing, with even white teeth flashing. It was meant intimidate him, and did its task well. Instantly, he was her prey, the tables turned drastically from hours before. Despite the game she played with him, Trinity held a bit of affection for the man. His drive for sex both amused and annoyed her. This resemblance to Scarlette made her want to connect with him. If the circumstances had been in their favor, she might have bedded him in the future, for fun. 

She turned away from him. 

"You look cold," he said to her back, though he would not have been _too_ disappointed watching her walk away. 

Trinity stopped, rolling her eyes with a smirk, her back still to him. "I told you once; I am not here for your entertainment." 

The man was relentless, "At least tell me I have a chance." 

_A chance. _

Her eyes darted to the group, then back over her shoulder to Boromir. Brown eyes pleaded with her. He seemed so hopeful, like a child searching for praise. 

"Hardly, barely, but I would stop now, before things become…uncontrollable." 

"I'd like to see that." 

Trinity almost laughed, she had not expected him to take a second rejection so easily. The first had been seemingly unacceptable to him, why should the second be any exception? 

Gandalf's voice cried out suddenly: "Oh! It's that way." 

The Fellowships' heads snapped toward him before scrambling from their places. 

"He's remembered," Merry said, trying to rouse himself. 

Already, the wizard was heading down a set of stone steps. 

"No," his voice echoed back to them, "but the air doesn't smell so foul down here."

Legolas tried to push back the image of Trinity and Boromir together. Try as he might to piece together her former and present attitude towards the man, he could not make sense of it. Nor could he justify how coldly she regarded him. Apparently, to her, Boromir's attempted rape was unquestionably more tolerable than his kindness. He must have been mad to see a reflection of Evalgine in her. Desperation had caused him to want her, this ghost of a woman, who hated freely and loved nothing. 

Something inside him resented her. And something inside him treasured her. 

The complexity of these feelings was too much for the Elf, he found his outlook focused on this aimless woman instead of the quest. What would his father say to this? 

Gimli started to run, his short, thick legs pumping furiously until he reached a small room. In the center, a stone stood alone, light bared down on top of it from the ceiling. With a cry of sorrow, the Dwarf dropped to his knees, for before him laid his cousin, Balin, Lord of Moria, in eternal slumber. His broken sobs echoed off the stone walls 

Trinity gazed at him with contemplating eyes before dropping beside him. She was awkward at the notion of comfort, for she had had very little of it shown to her in the past, but put her arm around his broad shoulders to try at least. The movements were stiff and uncomfortable, yet the Dwarf found at least some relief in them. The sobs hushed to gurgled gasps. He was kind to her, she could attempt the same. 

Legolas felt strangely thankful towards her. In that moment of tenderness, he saw the reflection of Evalgine that he clung to. The attraction was no longer a dream, but real, a nearly tangible creation. She was a tangible creation. Legolas turned his head and, from the look in Boromir's eyes, he felt similar. 

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria," Gandalf read from the inscription, "He is dead then; It's as I feared." 

Gimli's head bowed against the stone, making an echoing clang as his helm thumped against the stone. Trinity looked up at the others, drawing the Dwarf closer to her with a fathomless expression. The Fellowship wore a look of respectful pain, even Legolas, for all his dislike of Gimli's people, looked exceptionally solemn. 

The wizard pulled a dusty book from one of the corpses. When he sought to open it, pages fell and scattered like leaves. 

_**My mother's body did the same. After you – **_

_Hush. _

"We must move on. We cannot linger," Legolas whispered to Aragorn. 

The unease in his voice made her glance back. For a moment, her vision went black. Several rapid blinks righted it. Gimli felt her hand clutching the chain mail under his armor. Now it was her who leaned against him for support. 

"They have taken the bridge and the second hall." 

_Stop it. _

_**No.**_

She could not see, but her eyes were open. 

"We have barred the gates…" 

_Bar the gates, for the love of The Almighty, bar the gates!_

"But cannot hold them for long. The ground shakes. Drums…" 

_He's not who you think he is, Trinity, for God's sake don't shoot him!_

"Drums in the deep," Gandalf looked up from the reading in time to see Trinity slumping forward, "We cannot get out." 

_Too late, Scarlette, honey, he's already dead. _

"A shadow moves in the dark." 

_My God, look all that blood…You're covered with it. _

"We cannot get out."

_Oh…I…COVERED with it. Coated in it. _

"They are coming." 

Everything went black.

Gandalf snapped the book shut, and set it neatly back into the corpse's hands before rushing to the spot where Gimli struggled to hold Trinity's body off the floor. Dropping to his knees beside her, he ran one hand through her hair the way Scarlette had in Rivendell. He held his arms out to the Dwarf.

"Give her to me." 

Gimli obeyed, cautiously pushing her away from him as though she would break with the wrong touch. She would break, though not in the way one might suspect. 

Pippin, always the first to speak, voiced his concern: "What's the matter with her?"

The Hobbits gathered around with child-like apprehension. 

The wizard remained silent for a spell, focusing the main point of his energy on waking Trinity. He glanced up. 

"I cannot say, for I know very little of her condition," Gandalf murmured. 

Legolas looked down at her with pity in his eyes.

Boromir frowned, "I've seen this before. In Rivendell, upon our arrival, she did the same."

"Could this be The Ring's doing?" Aragorn asked quietly. He crossed the room and knelt beside them, checking the pulse point in her wrist. The rhythm was irregular, and weak.

"No," Boromir shook his head, "Her companion said it was common of her."

Aragorn inhaled sharply, "Then she should not have come." 

She would hinder them. But Gandalf defended her: "It was her choice, who are we to take away her honor?" 

Trinity stirred, her eyes snapped open with sudden force, her body shot up in the same way. With a sharp jerk of her wrist, she freed it of Aragorn's grasp and frowned at him. 

"Are you alright, my child?" 

A clanging interrupted them, the sound of metal falling several feet echoed and continued with a seemingly endless pace. Gandalf stood, and the Fellowship stared at Pippin, who could only look away with guilt in his eyes. 

"Fool of a Took," the wizard scolded, "Throw yourself in next time, and rid us of your stupidity!" 

He snatched back his hat and staff, which he had placed in the Hobbit's care prior. The steady sound of drums reached their ears. They looked around, hearts beating rapidly and breaths increasing. Trinity stood and drew her weapons. 

"Orcs," Legolas breathed. 

Boromir rushed to the doors and jerked back as a few choice arrows hit the wood, inches away from his flesh. 

"Get back," Aragorn yelled to the Hobbits, "Stay close to Gandalf!" 

Trinity broke past him, hurrying to assist Boromir with the doors. Together, they closed them and leaned against the wood for a moment. 

"They have a cave-troll," he said with exasperation. 

She smiled faintly, "More amusing for us." She then turned to look behind her. 

"Legolas," she shouted over the noise, "Those axes." 

The Elf nodded in understanding and took one in each hand. Trinity allowed Aragorn to barricade the doors, using the axes as locks. They stepped back, weapons drawn, and listened to the sound of the enemy approaching. Gimli's spirits rose. Out of nobility or anger, they did not know, but something drove the Dwarf to stand on top of his dear cousin's tomb and taunt the beasts. 

"Let them come," he hollered, "There is one Dwarf yet in Moria who still draws breath."

Not for long. 

The words were on her tongue, but Trinity dared not speak them. Never would she doubt the strength of someone who could find their entire world missing, and still held the will to fight. The Orcs swords poked through the doors, and both Legolas and Aragorn's arrows met them with great haste. A few inhuman shrieks came forth, announcing the death of at least two monstrosities. 

Then, the doors broke. The enemy came with frightening speed, hacking, slashing. Trinity found herself in awe at the numbers, but found quickly that they lacked the skill to match them. Her knives sliced through them without trouble, with kicks and spin, she found victory over these Orcs. The others found bravely, even the Hobbits had rushed into battle. 

_Good girl, keep going. Hack. Slash. Kill. _

And then, the cave-troll came, bursting through the remaining wood as though it were water. It went for Sam first, but he dove beneath its legs, out of reach. Trinity ran after them and, just as the beast meant to step on the Hobbit, she jammed one of her knives into the bottom of its foot. Boromir and Aragorn grabbed the chain connected to the collar around its neck and heaved. 

Aragorn was intelligent enough to let go. Boromir; however, was flung into the opposite wall and fell to the ground, unconscious. An Orc moved to finish him, but Trinity got to it first. With no effort, she slit its throat and dropped its lifeless corpse to the ground. She offered him a helping hand and he took it without hesitation. 

Trinity looked over her shoulder to see the swinging its giant chain desperately at the ledge where Legolas stood. He spun to avoid it expertly, his expression that of clear concentration. She thought about formulating a plan to assist, but was too preoccupied keeping the Orcs from the Hobbits. 

_**Help him! **_

_Be quiet! _

Trinity felt her feet moving of their accord. Towards the troll. Her green eyes widened in panic. 

_Stop it! _

_**You must help him! **_

_I will! But I need a few moments to think, I – _

_**That is not enough! **_

Her arm stabbed the beast through its many layers of leathery flesh. Dark blood met her fingertips.

The cave-troll had stopped trying to hit him for the moment; Legolas glanced down quickly to see its distraction, as well as the friend he must thank later on. To his surprise, Trinity had been the one to gain him time and opportunity, her knife dug deep into the monster's calf. The Elf watched in slight horror as the troll kicked her with its better leg and knocked her across the room. 

The opportunity nearly passed him in that moment. With a leap, he landed on the trolls shoulders. Quickly, Legolas drew his bow and shot three arrows into its scalp. He escaped easily; jumping off the creature's back and rushed to Trinity's crumpled form. She lay on her stomach, head the side. 

His hand gently shook her shoulder, "Trinity!" 

Nothing. 

Legolas slowly rolled her onto her back; she seemed relatively unharmed, with the exception of a bit of blood trickling from her left temple. His hand caressed her face, wiped the blood away. 

"Trinity!" 

Her eyes snapped opened and she looked at him with that same expression of fear that he had seen before. It took barely any time for her to compose herself in this instance. 

"Frodo," she whispered, looking over the Elf's shoulder.

He turned in time to see the troll stumbling their way. Standing, Legolas drew his bow and shot a single arrow into its throat. The best fell inches away from them, and nearly crushed Gimli in the process. Trinity jumped to her feet, running to Frodo's form. Aragorn joined her. 

"Oh no," whispered the ranger, pulling the Hobbit's body to face him. Frodo gasped, his eyes open wide. 

Trinity's expression was that of pure relief. 

"He's alive," Sam said gratefully. 

"I'm alright," gasped Frodo, "I'm not hurt."

Aragorn surveyed him with amazed eyes, "You should be dead. That spear would have skewered a wild boar." 

Trinity exhaled, putting her hand on Frodo's shoulder. 

Gandalf stepped forward, "I think there's more to this Hobbit than meets the eye." 

Frodo seemed slightly taken aback. His fingers traveled to his tunics and pulled them aside, revealing splendid silver armor underneath. 

"Mithril," Gimli breathed, "You are full of surprises, Master Baggins." 


	11. Gandalf's Fall and Lady Galadriel

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

More Orcs were coming, Trinity could hear their shrieks nearing. 

Gandalf looked to them, "To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm." 

The Fellowship ran after him, and Trinity found herself slightly surprised at how fast the elderly wizard could run. Orcs trailed them, immense in number, screeching at the top of their lungs. She wanted to drive her sword through them, watch them bleed out. A strong suspicion rose that Gimli wanted to do the same. Glancing up, she watched them crawl from the ceiling like bugs, down the pillars. 

Her pace quickened till she ran beside Legolas. Without hesitation, she reached over and grabbed his wrist. Cerulean eyes looked at her questioningly. 

"We are going to be surrounded," she stated evenly, as though the physical effort of sprinting did not tire her in the least. The fact sounded as if it were predictable to her. 

Gandalf halted suddenly and Legolas did not even need to look to see what had stopped him. Trinity was correct; they were surrounded. He glanced over to her and she gave him a knowing look before her face went ashen. A frown crossed his fine features, but a sudden roar broken his thoughts. He looked to the doorway ahead of him and saw it flare crimson. The Orcs fled at once, leaving the Fellowship alone. 

They were the intelligent ones.

"One of us will fall," Trinity whispered in Gandalf's ear. 

He stared at the doorway without a word. The Elf's ears twitched at the sound of her voice.

Behind him, Boromir's face darkened, "What is this new devilry?" 

Gandalf closed his eyes tightly as a deep silence took place. 

Something of great magnitude stirred in the distance. 

"A Balrog," Gandalf said finally, "A demon of the ancient world." 

Trinity looked to him sharply, then at Legolas' slightly fearful expression. She put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear as well. 

"Don't be frightened." 

He frowned. 

"This foe is beyond any of you," the wizard said, "Run!" 

And so they did. Boromir took the lead and ran into what he thought was a haven. His arms swayed as he nearly fell into a deep abyss. Trinity gasped and tried to help him, but Legolas reached him first. His arms locked around the man's waist and he forced his own weight back, causing the both of them to fall over. Sitting up, Boromir gave the Elf a grateful look. Trinity dropped to her knees beside them both, her slender hands quickly scanning them for wounds; expertly, she tore the lower edge of her tunic and wrapped it around a bleeding cut on Boromir's calf. He smiled weakly in thanks.

"Gandalf," Aragorn whispered to the wizard, who came stumbling in last. 

Gandalf gasped heavily, "Lead them on, Aragorn. The bridge is near." 

Aragorn looked at him with conflicting eyes and tried to shove past him. Gandalf pushed him away with an irritated expression, "Do as I say! Swords are no more use here." 

They reached a set of stair, but in the middle a section had rotted away. Legolas leaped to the other side, turned back gracefully to the others. The Balrog neared, bits of stone fell to the ground. 

"Gandalf!" 

The wizard jumped first into Legolas' waiting arms. Trinity glanced up to see an Orc hurl a spear toward them. Her hand gripped the back of Boromir's tunic and jerked him backwards moments before the spear hit the stone in front of him. He looked up in amazement. A few more spears were hurled; they missed, though they came very close to hitting their targets. Legolas drew his bow, firing arrows at them for distraction. 

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir shouted, gathering the Hobbits into his arms before all three leapt across. 

Trinity cried out as the stone beneath her gave way and fell into the abyss, Aragorn's hand gripped her wrist steadily. As he pulled her up, a poorly aimed arrow hit her in the upper thigh, making it spasm and she lost her footing. He nearly dropped her then, and heaved with every strength he possessed. It was enough to pull her up. Trinity stared hatefully at the arrow protruding from her leg. 

Her hand gripped around it and pulled, mercilessly, until it was free, a small amount of blood followed. She threw the arrow into the abyss with irritation and spun around; pulling out one of the many small knives she hid on her body. With a grunt, she launched it at an Orc, piercing him in the throat. An evil grin passed over her momentarily. 

"Sam," Aragorn said before clutching the hobbit and throwing him to Legolas on the other side. 

He then turned to Gimli, who put up his hand proudly.

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf," he announced before jumping to the other side 

He nearly did not make it, but Legolas reached out and gripped his beard, pulling him back. 

"Not the beard!" cried the Dwarf. 

This time, the stone beneath Aragorn and Frodo gave out, but not before Aragorn pushed the Hobbit and Trinity out of the way. He gripped the edge, and Trinity knelt to help him, pulling him to safety, the way he had done with her. More growls from behind, a piece of the ceiling broke off, severing the stairs behind them. All three felt the foundation falter. Aragorn gripped Frodo's shoulder tightly. 

"Steady." 

The small portion of stairs began to lean forward; Aragorn felt Trinity's arms around his waist she attempted to keep him secure.

"Lean forward," he called. 

Trinity and Frodo obeyed, and the stone slid forward until it crashed into the other piece, where the rest of the Fellowship awaited. Aragorn flew into Legolas' arms with Trinity still attached to him, Frodo into Boromir's. Legolas released Aragorn at once, but gripped Trinity's face with hands as she tried to pass him by. His expression was one of complete thanks, and he rested his forehead against hers for an instant. She gazed at him in confusion. He released her and kept running, making sure she remained behind him at all times. 

"Over the Bridge," Gandalf shouted, "Fly!" 

He stopped and turned suddenly, Trinity could not hear his footsteps among the group. She halted and stood beside him as a fiery being roared at them with terrifying fury. Oddly enough, she was not afraid, more angered by the turn of events. The wizard turned and fled, and so she followed. When it came time to pass over the bridge, Gandalf only went half way. Trinity stayed with him as he glared at the beast. 

"You cannot pass!" he shouted at it. 

"Gandalf!" Frodo shrieked from behind them. 

The Balrog advanced a few paces, threatening, a beast made of fiery hate and coal. Gandalf turned on Trinity, "Go with them!" 

_No._

"No! I can help!" 

The creature set itself aflame. 

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire," Gandalf said, "wielder of the flame of Anor."

"What are they doin'?" Sam asked Legolas with trepidation etched in his tone. 

The Elf could not answer; only pray to the Valor that they would not be harmed. He looked to Boromir and reasoned that, from the panic in his expression, the man was doing the same. 

Gandalf raised his staff as a weapon. 

"The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn!"

It struck at them with a sword made entirely of flames, but Gandalf deflected the blow. 

"Do as I say, Trinity!" 

"No," she screamed.

_Where is mama?_

_The flames ate her up. _

The wizard said no more, but shoved her violently from the battle. A grunt escaped her lips as she hit the stone floor and she felt a pair of arms wrap around her. 

"Go back to the shadow," she heard Gandalf growl. 

The sound of a whip could be heard. Trinity stiffened. She had heard that sound many times and hid against the chest of whomever held her now, allowing one small whimper to penetrate her defenses.

_Papa loves you very much._

"You shall not pass!"

There was a loud crackle, like lightening, and then a snort from the Balrog, as if mocking the wizard's ability. The sound of stone breaking met her ears; the arms which comforted her, picked her up completely and turned away from the battle, leading her to the others. She pushed at the strong chest, indicating that she wanted to be set down. Boromir obeyed, setting her on her feet. Frodo gasped suddenly and Trinity whipped around to see what the matter was. Gandalf was dangling over the edge of the stairs, over the dark abyss with which he had just won victory over the Balrog. 

Frodo tried to rush to him, but Boromir caught him. 

"Gandalf!" screamed the Hobbit. 

The wizard struggled for a bit, and then surrendered. 

"Fly, you fools," he whispered. 

And then, he let go. 

It was Frodo who gave the first cry of sorrow, but Aragorn and Trinity stayed the longest. 

"Aragorn," Boromir shouted, carrying Frodo like a misbehaving toddler out of the Mines. 

Trinity looked to the ranger, who seemed utterly lost within himself at that moment. She gripped his wrist with same hold he had used on her when she nearly fell into the abyss. She wanted him to feel the symbolic gesture, wanted him to know that she wished to save him the way he saved her. Arrows ricocheted off the stone walls as they made their way out together. 

Outside, the Fellowship broke. Sobbing. Gimli tried to return to the Mines, cursing and shouting, but Boromir held him back, choking his explanation with his own sorrow.

_So much grief. Pain._

Trinity put her fingers to her temples and observed the others. Merry held Pippin. Boromir restrained Gimli. Legolas walked between the two groups with confusion on his features. Sam wept shamelessly. Only she and Aragorn seemed composed. 

She was utterly void of their pain. 

But she did not want to be.

"Trinity, Legolas, get them up." 

Legolas inhaled and looked to her, that confusion and pain mixed in his eyes. He saw nothing in return, and did as Aragorn commanded. She felt no sorrow, no pain, she was a walking corpse. Nothing penetrated her. That moment of tenderness for Gimli meant nothing, a charade, for now that the time for shedding tears had risen, she did nothing. 

Only stood there, with that dead expression. 

"Give them a moment, for pity's sake!" Boromir hollered. 

Aragorn looked at him evenly, "By nightfall, these hills will be swarming with Orcs. We must reach the woods of Lothlórien." 

He straightened them up as best he could, forced them to stand. 

"Come, Boromir. Legolas. Gimli, get them up." 

Aragron stood before Sam, and gripped his tunic, forcing him up, "On your feet, Sam." 

He turned to Trinity. 

"Trinity." 

She stood there still, that dead glint in her eyes. 

"Trinity!" 

Finally, she looked to him with that empty gaze. 

"Move, do something of use!" 

An incoherent murmur rose from her lips. 

"What was that?" 

"Frodo is missing," she said again, louder this time. 

Aragorn looked around, "Frodo? Frodo!" 

He found the Hobbit a few feet away, choosing to release his sorrows away from the rest. 

Aragorn had assumed the role of the leader, with Trinity taking his place as the obedient servant. She was his right arm, all dependable tasks relied solely on her. For once her life, she did not mind being a follower, though something troubled her deeply. In all this new turmoil, she had forgotten her quest to save her friends. Scarlette, Faith, Destiny, Dezaria, they were all distant memories. 

Those people, who had taken her in and given her a life, were mere footnotes in the back of her mind. 

The Fellowship assumed the role of her adoptive family. 

Presently, they reached a forest, walking through it slowly, watchfully. Legolas would stop to run his hand along a trunk occasionally, a reminiscent air about him. Trinity preferred to stay with Aragorn, as he seemed the only one who was not irritated by her lack of emotion. In all honesty, he found it refreshing. She was a natural leader, and though he had doubted her competence before, he now placed his life in her hands.

Gimli turned to the Hobbits suddenly. 

"Stay close, young Hobbits," he said in a motherly fashion, "They say a great sorceress lives in these woods. An Elf-witch of terrible power. All who look upon her fall under her spell. And are never seen again." 

He twirled his axe. 

"Well, here's one Dwarf she won't ensnare so easily! I have the eyes of the hawk and the ears of a fox." 

_Not to mention the breath of a pig_, Trinity thought bitterly. 

It was true, he breathed much too heavily. 

Or perhaps it was just jealousy that he breathed, when she forgot how. 

Suddenly, arrows were all around them, strung by fine bows, which were governed by finer folk. She cursed loudly, Gimli's talk and made her deaf to their presence. A glance in Legolas' direction told her that the same incident had taken place with him.

An Elf with hair like silver walked up to Aragorn and Trinity, looking them over with egotistical pride, "The Dwarf breathes so loud, we could have shot him in the dark." 

A faint smile touched her lips, it was about time someone stated the obvious. 

However, she could tell already that she would not care for this Elf's manner and decided to start a little mischief instead: "You think none of us would take that arrow in his place?" 

"I should hope not," he replied with a smile, "such an attractive creature should never put herself into harm's way. Especially for the welfare of a Dwarf." 

Trinity exchanged a glance with Aragorn, and slowly put her hands up in the same peaceful gesture he was displaying. The head Elf took control over the Fellowship, telling them to allow him the lead. Though the others followed obediently, Trinity still was not done with her game.

"I like Dwarves," she replied indifferently, "They know their liquor." 

"The only thing they know," he replied without turning to face her.

She nearly smiled, for this Elf caught on quick. 

Trinity refused to take her eyes off the lead Elf. Thinking with her paranoid and broken mind, she suspected him to be a threat, ready to strike at any minute. This was a trap. But then, to her, everything was a trap. It helped take the surprise away. She hated surprises.

Gimli stirred at her side as the Elf spoke to Legolas and Aragorn in their native tongue. A tongue that he did not understand. 

Irritation flooded him: "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves! Speak words we can all understand!" 

Her hand touched his shoulder lightly, steadying him. 

The Elf turned slowly measuring fist the Dwarf, then her with silver eyes. 

"We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the Dark Days," his tone was one of disgust. 

"And you know what this Dwarf says to that?" 

Aragorn sighed at the stream of curses Gimli let loose. He grabbed the Dwarf's free shoulder. 

"That," he said with a steady glare, "was not so courteous." 

Gimli looked up at Trinity expectantly, but she only shrugged. Protection was offered only when the offense was unnecessary. Aragorn had every right to sold him in this instance. 

The strange Elf moved on, focusing his eyes on Frodo. 

"You bring great evil with you," he said quietly, and turned his back on them, "You can go no further." 

_We all bring great evil with us._

Trinity glared at his back as he walked away. 

Amazingly, it was Aragorn who attempted negotiations with the Elves,not Legolas, as she predicted. He whispered urgently to one Elf, almost desperately. The Fellowship kept glancing at Frodo with accusing eyes. Protectively, she put her arm around the Hobbit's shoulders and scowled at the others, warning them against false allegations. He bore the greatest grief of them all. 

Boromir saw it as well.

"Gandalf's death was not in vain," he said to the Hobbit, "Nor would he have you give up hope. You carry a heavy burden, Frodo. Don't carry the weight of the dead." 

"He's right, Frodo," Trinity said quietly, "Let go of your grief. Do not let it destroy you."

_The way it has destroyed me. _

The former Elf appeared again, looking rather unhappy: "You will follow me." 

They walked in procession, a long line of silent beings. The strange Elves lead them through the forest, the lead Elf's attitude changed greatly from before. He seemed almost content, in that pompous way. Trinity could not seem to decide whether she loathed him or respected him. Either option seemed foreign to her. After all, she was the one who felt nothing. 

Only the Hobbits looked at her now. They were the only ones who could still show admiration for her during the long wear of this journey. The others did not hate her, but seemed uncomfortable around her, an effect she was rather wary of. 

The leading Elf stopped suddenly with a small smile on his face.

"Caras Galadhon," he proclaimed, "The heart of Elvendom on earth. Realm of the Lord Celeborn, and of Galadriel, Lady of Light." 

Their kingdom was part of the trees, one with it. Buildings and staircases wrapped around thick trunks, all of which were steady and grand. It shined with inner light, as though The Almighty itself smiled upon this place. 

_No_, she reminded herself, _Elves do not believe in The Almighty_.

The architecture as amazing, delicate, but somehow sturdy and functional. Like the Elves from Rivendell, Trinity felt an automatic dislike for the inhabitants of this great city. Purity was their main aspect, light and holiness, all of which she lacked. This place made her ashamed to be what she was. 

A nonentity. 

The Fellowship stood on a platform, several hundred feet up from the earth. It was then that the Elves called Celeborn and Galadriel made themselves known. Hand in hand, they descended a small set of stair till they stood with the Fellowship. Trinity pursed her lips as the others made their wonder clear in their expressions. She knew better than to express anything.

"The enemy knows you have entered here," Celeborn said, observing them all carefully, "What hope you had in secrecy is now gone. Nine there are here, yet ten there were set out from Rivendell. Tell me, where is Gandalf? For I much desire to speak with him. I can no longer see him from afar."

Lady Galadriel looked to the Fellowship.

She whispered, but her voice still sounded great to their ears: "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He had fallen into Shadow." 

"He was taken by both Shadow and flame," Legolas told them, "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria." 

Trinity rested her hand on his shoulder, telling him to not to say so much. He looked to her and saw a bit of warning in her eyes. 

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life. We do not yet know his full purpose. Do not let the great emptiness of Khazad-dûm fill your heart, Gimli, son of Glóin. For the world has grown full of peril and in all lands love is now mingled with grief." 

Boromir began to cry when Lady Galadriel's eyes rested on him. Legolas felt Trinity's hand slip from his shoulder as she watched the man with conflicting eyes. 

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost," Celeborn confided in them.

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true. Do no let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest, for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight, you will sleep with us." 

They took Lady Galadriel's dismissal. In her mind, Trinity felt the buzz of the Great Lady trying to enter. It took very little to stop her in her tracks. 

Her mind was not a plaything, no matter how great the sorceress behind the prying. 

Legolas stood amongst the others, listening to the heavenly singing drift from the trees. 

"A lament for Gandalf," he said quietly. 

"What do they say about him?" Merry asked. 

Legolas could not answer at first, the hesitation was noted among the remaining company. 

"I have not the heart to tell you," he whispered finally, "for me, the grief is still too near." 

His fine eyes caught the image of Trinity above them, leaning against the white railing of a bridge leading to another tree, Haldir stood by her side, whispering in her ear. Already, he attempting to woo her, Legolas had known his would come, he had seen it in Haldir's gaze earlier, the playfulness of his tone. The Elf snatched Trinity's wrist suddenly and lead her away. She followed with dead obedience, lagging behind, but not resisting. 

Legolas' heart faltered and he turned away. 

He sought out Lady Galadriel. 

No, that is not right, it was she who sought him, reached into his mind and asked him to come. But he didn't know, all he could feel was the desire to speak with her. To learn something about anything. To ease his mind of troubled thoughts.

She was standing in a clearing, barefooted and lovely, the grass worshiped her feet. Her eyes caught his and she beckoned. A wave of nerves rushed over him, his heart beating furiously as his footsteps carried him to her. 

"Do not fear, Master Greenleaf, I will not harm you." 

He knew this, but could not answer. 

"You wish to ask me about the girl. Trinity. Beautiful and strong, the object of so many dreams and desires, heated by a glance or a mere movement. Yet dead, alone. I know what you want, to know of her past, her future, her everything. Of all things, you wish her to be yours, but you are stopped…" 

She took a step towards him, eyes never faltering for a second. 

"There was another, once, a girl who looked the same. Like sunrise in the morn. Mortal, fragile, you adored this girl, her smile, her laugh. So young, you knew her quandary, the pain she endured, and attempted to save her. You were her protector, teacher, and lover. Once, long ago, you were her everything." 

An overwhelming wish to sob washed over him. Legolas sank to his knees before her.

"A stray arrow took her from you, destroying your sweet Evalgine, and you felt as though the world had ended. But you left before you saw the thing play out in its entirety…" 


	12. Unclean Thoughts and Boromir's Death

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

* * *

Lady Galadriel paused, a faint smile touching her lips.

"She is not forgotten, Legolas, son of Thranduil. Her memory rests within you, and in Trinity."

He looked up, eyes shining with pain and tears. "What?"

_She is not forgotten. _

Legolas knelt there, unable to see. "In Trinity?"

"She is hidden, drowned by her own creation. You came here to ask me of Trinity, but I cannot tell you anything, for her mind is an endless mystery, even to me."

His vision set back in, but comprehension failed him. The Great Lady knelt beside him, touching his cheek gently.

"Something prevents me from entrance; all I can sense is pain. But there is faith, still, deep inside. If you reach her, then Evalgine will be close at hand. Or perhaps, you will find comfort within someone else."

Another smile graced her features.

"The Quest…" Legolas whispered.

"You trouble yourself with the thought that you will fail Frodo. That fear drives you, Master Greenleaf, and soon it will control you. But you must not let it."

Legolas looked at her with hope, "What, then, must I do?"

"Let it play out," she answered, standing, "And allow what occurs to simply occur. Do not be ashamed to think of Evalgine, or Trinity, they will do as they see fit and will not lead you to ruin."

He rose as well, slowly, looking at the Great lady before him with awe.

She named the stars, one by one, since she could see the night's sky through the ceiling of Haldir's talan. Raven hair spilled around her like a lake, emerald eyes dreamy. Passion remained hidden from her, as the Elf pressed his body against her, creating a friction that was probably pleasurable enough to him, but meant nothing to her. Quietly, she lay there, repeating the names in her head to avoid thinking or feeling. She didn't want to feel his body on hers, his breath on her neck and face.

To be devastatingly honest, she never really understood the concept of sex. Or at least, the way some people discussed sex. Destiny, for example, continually referred to it as a 'bond of both mental and physical aspects.' Scarlette thought of it as a game, where the sweetest trophy was won in being able to bed that cute bartender from the Club. Male or female, it didn't matter, so long as that pleasurable friction was there.

And then, there was the whole point of getting to that friction, to that 'bond.' Dates, movies, money, drinks, jokes, painful conversation, all mixed together for twenty minutes of ecstasy that neither would care about the next morning. Next, after the bedding, the love-making, there would be that awkward phase, where both man and woman (or woman and woman, in Scarlette's case; or even man and man in Scarlette's brother's case) would dress and avoid each other's gaze out of shame.

To hell with formality! Why did they not just do this, what she had done?

_**Because they have morals.**_

Be picked like some prize at a fair, and bedded the same night. No candy or fake conversation, just those precious twenty minutes. Of course, these minutes seemed to go by so slowly. All the while, Trinity laid there naming the stars and thought about a way to escape. That and Legolas. He just continually came into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to keep him out.

_I have no morality. Morality is for the weak. _

_**Morality is for the noble. And the intelligent.**_

_You were the intelligent one, not I. I am the strong one. That is all. Nothing more, nothing less. _

What was love?

The question hung in the air before her, just out of reach. Hours before, she would have said the way Legolas treated her, kindness and respect. Or perhaps it was the way Boromir laughed and watched her, wanting her. Or, possibly, this was love. This, right now, was love, with Haldir dangling over her, choking with the effort to make her do _something_. And she, smothered in utter silence. There was a strong chance that this was the love told in fairy tales.

Choking sounds and silence.

And she foolishly expected more.

The world conflicted with everything Legolas knew, or thought he knew. Lady Galadriel had told him to connect with Trinity, and find Evalgine within her, but that seemed near impossible. The girl barely talked, let alone gave him a hint as to what she thought in any situation. He looked to the stars, and then slowly lowered his head to watch the path in front of him. The same bridge that he had seen Haldir and Trinity on rested just ahead.

Standing on the outside of the railing, looking down into the trees, was Trinity. Briefly, Legolas wondered if any inhabitants or visitors of Caras Galadhon had ever committed suicide, he suspected not. It looked as though she would be the first. Again, that image of her bleeding entered his mind and with it came the need to protect her.

He stepped onto the bridge.

She appeared not to have heard him, and rested there still, her head bowed.

Four feet from her, a humorless chuckle rose into the air.

"I can hear you," Trinity whispered, then looked back at him with a grim smile.

He took a step towards her, but she leaned forward, daring him. Legolas was brought to a halt. Emerald eyes measured him; he felt something blocking the air from reaching his lungs.

He swallowed the obstruction in his throat, "Once, long ago, I loved a mortal girl…"

She exhaled, and looked back down. A curtain of hair obstructed his view of her face.

"She was young, and naïve, but kind and beautiful, and so intelligent…"

Another step was taken; again, she leaned forward. Her arms stretched to their limits, the fine muscles flexed to their full extent. Valar, she was stunning. He stopped again, determined.

"My father wished to ally our kingdom with her father's, but he did not fair well then, and sent me in his place. When I saw her, I mistook her for an angel, so pure and innocent. Over the course of my stay, we grew close, near inseparable."

_Marry me. _

_As if I can refuse. _

His eyes were clouded, "And she was so intelligent. In only four days, she learned my native tongue. Four days! I hadn't thought it possible, but she insisted; she wanted to learn…"

His voice caught and Legolas found himself unable to go on.

"What happened to her?"

A sad smile crossed his handsome features, "She died. In my arms. A stray arrow."

She nodded in understanding and began to lean back slowly.

"For many years," Legolas continued, "I was lost without her, my Evalgine. Every day bore new pain; I wanted to die."

Silence. Trinity looked at him sharply, so much emotion in her eyes that it was impossible to decipher.

"But there is hope, always, there is hope."

By now, he found himself close enough to pull her onto the bridge by force, but held out his hand instead. She stared at it, inspecting it as though she thought it to be a trick. Cautiously, Trinity put her hand in his and allowed him to help her over the railing, onto a solid surface. Avoiding his gaze, she whispered her thanks and started to walk away.

Something possessed her to turn back and tell him openly: "It wouldn't have killed me, anyway."

She was right, it would not have.

Nothing could.

The time for their departure came sooner than expected. The next morn, Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, Haldir, and a few other Elves saw them off.

"Never before have we clad strangers in the garb of our own people," Lord Celeborn said while watching the other Elves adjust the cloaks given to the Fellowship, "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

Lady Galadriel took them aside, bestowing her own gifts upon them.

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim. Worthy of the skill of our woodland kin."

Legolas took the bow from her, running his hands over the object reverently, a smile on his face. Lady Galadriel smiled gently before moving on to Merry and Pippin.

"These are daggers of the Noldorin. They have already seen service in war."

The Hobbits unsheathed them; Pippin looked up at her with wide eyes.

"Do not fear, Peregrin Took," she said softly, "You will find your courage."

She turned to Sam, "And for you, Samwise Gamgee, Elven rope made of hithlain."

"Thank you, my Lady," he murmured, taking it into his hands. He glanced around, "Have you run out of those nice, shiny daggers?"

Lady Galadriel smiled ruefully at him, but said nothing else, and walked on to Frodo.

"Farewell, Frodo Baggins. I give you the light of Eärendil, our most beloved star. May it be a light for you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

She kissed the top of his head and moved on.

Now it was Trinity's time. The Great Lady looked in her the eyes and smiled, shaking her head from side to side. Instead of a gift, a dagger, or rope, or a bow, or even the light of a star, she drew Trinity into a hug. The others watched in amazement as Trinity returned the embrace.

"Had I known then, what I know now," she whispered in Trinity's ear, "I surely would have wept for you. Take great comfort in your escape, find your friends, and do not let your sorrows drown you."

In a moment of weakness, after the incident on the bridge, Trinity had told Lady Galadriel everything about her past and present.

She had wept for her.

Legolas packed the boats with provisions, preparing for the departure. He looked to see Haldir embrace Trinity one last time, before she joined them. The Elf glanced down at one of the sacks and untied it, pulling out what resembled a flat piece of bread.

"Lembas."

Merry and Pippin looked at him quizzically from their spot in the boat. Trinity joined them with a heavy sack in her right hand.

"Elvish waybread," he explained, "One small bite is enough to fill the stomach of a grown man."

He turned to assist Aragorn and Merry scooted closer to Pippin.

"How many did you eat?"

"Four," Pippin said before grunting and letting loose a particularly loud fart.

Trinity dropped the sack in the boat, startling them.

"You know he _can_ hear you," she stated with a smile.

They looked properly ashamed.

Trinity leaned against the front of the boat, dozing, her hood pulled over her pretty face. Gimli and Legolas watched her content with question, for never yet on this journey had they seen her so vulnerable than in this moment. Even on the bridge, she held the power in her hands, when in her fits, she could still fight in an instant. But here, now, she appeared almost happy.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting," Gimli announced suddenly, "having looked my last upon that which is fairest."

Trinity's eyes fluttered open to see Legolas smiling down at the dwarf, who let out a long sigh.

"Henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

"What was her gift?" Legolas asked him.

Gimli's eyes stared straight ahead, at Trinity.

"I asked her for one hair from her golden head," he muttered, "She gave me three."

Both Trinity and the Elf smiled at this.

They drifted for a long while, Legolas pushing the water with one white oar. Soon it was Gimli who snored, Trinity wide awake and staring at the trees. Occasionally, she would feel the Elf's eyes travel to her, then look away. Not ashamed, or embarrassed, but contemplating.

"Am I to assume that you are well now?"

She looked at him quickly, "Well?"

He nodded, "You've been different since our departure. You smile now."

Now a small smile graced her features, "I talked with Lady Galadriel and told her everything, something I have not had the ability to do for many years."

The smile faded and she shook her head, "But I will never be well."

Legolas' head turned sharply to the side as he peered into the trees.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Orcs. In the sunlight. Uruks."

They made camp up the river, on a bank. The Hobbits fell asleep quick enough, Gimli with them. Aragorn and Boromir were watching the river; Trinity sat away from them still, though the distance significantly less than before.

Legolas knelt beside her, "You should rest."

Stubbornly, she shook her head. "I can't sleep."

"And why is that?" He whispered in her ear, hot breath stinging the normally cold flesh.

"Because," she whispered back, "evil does not."

For a few moments, he watched her fall back into her old ways. Secrecy shrouded her once again and he sighed. What could trouble something so beautiful? Her eyes met his as though she knew what he was thinking and then, she rose, leaving him there alone as she joined the men.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road," Boromir was saying, "You know that. From there we can regroup, strike out for Mordor from a place of strength."

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn replied.

Trinity shook her head, "Strength does not win wars."

Desperation filled Boromir to the brim: "You were quick enough to trust the Elves! Have you so little faith in your own people? Yes, there is weakness. There is frailty. But there is courage also, and honor to be found in Men. But you will not see that!"

Aragorn attempted to leave, but Boromir pulled him back by his cloak.

"You are afraid! All your life, you have hidden in the shadows. Scared of who you are, of what you are."

The ranger started to leave, but turned back suddenly.

"I will no lead the Ring within a hundred leagues of your city," he hissed.

Boromir watched him leave, then turned his pain-filled gaze to Trinity, who embraced him tightly.

"You are the one who is afraid," she whispered into the crook of his neck before releasing him with an almost violent shove.

They passed between two stone men, great in size and stature. Regal and proud were they, with hands held high. If they could move, Trinity suspected, they could crush the boats the Fellowship rode in like insects.

Gimli nudged her, "Be proud, girl, these are your kin."

"No," she mumbled, "They're not."

Only Legolas heard her.

They banked again. Boromir seemed shaken and, while the others set up camp, he kept to himself, depression and gloom surrounding him. All seemed lost to him; darkness drove itself deep into his bones, fueled by the desire to prove the worth of his people and the desire to bed Trinity. She could feel it in him, this darkness, and kept watch over him at all times. Any moment, any little thing, could possibly break him.

So when the man disappeared into the woods after Frodo, so did she.

It was she who found the Hobbit first in a small clearing, leaves scattered and a fallen head of a stature staring blankly ahead.

But it was Boromir who said the first words to him.

"None of us should wander alone," he said to Frodo, his voice falsely content while he gathered fire wood.

Trinity stepped into the clearing, "He isn't alone."

"Yes," Boromir murmured quietly, "But we all know that being with you is as if being alone. None should wander alone, or with you by their side."

Her jaw tightened, and Frodo looked to her with shocked eyes. He could not believe that she would allow him to say such things to her. In any other situation, she told herself, he would have been dead long before this.

He bent to pick up another fallen branch, glancing at Frodo momentarily, "You, least of all. So much depends on you."

Straightening, he looked to the Hobbit again.

"Frodo?"

No doubt he was disappointed in the lack of conversation.

"I know why you seek solitude," Boromir walked towards him, "You suffer. I see it day by day. You sure you do not suffer needlessly?"

The Hobbit looked at him sharply; Trinity leaned against the stone head, telling herself that she would not become involved until absolutely necessary.

"There are other ways, Frodo."

_Liar. _

"Other paths that we might take."

"I know what you say," Frodo interrupted, "And it would seem like wisdom but for the warning in my heart."

Silently, Trinity applauded him.

"Warning?" Boromir laughed the laugh of a man caught in a lie, "Against what?"

He drew nearer, but Trinity drew her blades. A dark shadow passed over his face.

The expression he wore was one mixed with hate and lust, "Are you going to kill me, Trinity?"

Daring, he took another step.

"If I must," she replied, hold one arm out at full length. In the air, the tip rested just below his chin. She hoped the Hobbit would see her creation – the diversion.

Seeing the opportunity, Frodo tried to escape. But Boromir saw and went after him instead.

His back slouched, "We're all afraid, Frodo. Even her."

Stopping, he looked back at Trinity.

"Look at her," he whispered, eyes moving up and down her body, "A woman on a male's journey. Scared little girl with knives."

She was not scared, the blade she held in her hand did not quiver at all. Boromir dropped the wood deliberately and moved beside her. Instantly, she froze, not wanting to provoke him, even as his gloved hand moved a stray lock behind her ear. Something deep inside her still cared for him enough to not cut him down then and there. Turning her head by the chin to face him, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Flipping the knives so the blades faced the ground, she shoved at his chest, causing him to stumble back a few feet.

In astonishment, he gazed at her.

"We're all afraid," he repeated and turned back to Frodo, "But to let that fear dive us, to destroy what hope we have…don't you see this madness?"

"There is no other way," the Halfling stumbled away from him.

It was then that he broke.

"I ask only for the strength to defend my people," he grunted between clenched teeth.

He shook his head, breath uneven, "If you would but lend me the Ring."

"No."

Still, Frodo moved away.

"Why do you recoil? I am no thief." He whispered in an agitated tone.

Trinity's blade found the flesh of his throat, she held him back with the threat – the promise – of his blood spilled upon the ground.

"You are not yourself," she said coolly, calmly.

Boromir exhaled sharply, his hands clutched at the knife. "What chance do you think you have? They will find you. They will take the Ring. And you will beg for death before the end!"

Frodo turned away.

"You fool!" the man yelled at his back, "It is not yours, save by unhappy chance! It could have been mine. It should be mine! Give it to me!"

His elbow struck a mighty blow into her ribs, she grunted, but did not release him. Another blow made her strength falter, and he escaped. He delivered a hard punch to her stomach and shoved her down, chasing after Frodo, who had begun to run away. Easily, he caught the Hobbit and tackled him to the ground. Trinity put an arm across her abdomen tightly, holding the broken rib in place as she started toward them.

"Give it to me!" Boromir shouted, hands attack the Halfling, trying to steal the ring away.

"No!" Frodo cried, struggling against him.

And then, he vanished. Boromir looked down, puzzled before his body jolted suddenly upright, pushed by an invisible force. Trinity lowered her arm in amazement and watched the deteriorating mind of Boromir work its craft.

"I see your mind," he ranted into the air, "You will take the Ring to Sauron! You will betray us. You'll go to your death, and the death of us all!"

The man scrambled to his feet, "Curse you! Curse you and all the Halflings!"

Trinity rushed to him, but the back of his head met the curve of her jaw, knocking her down. Angrily, she kicked at the back of his knee, taking him down with her. He hit the ground with noisy grunts and lay on his stomach gasping.

"Frodo?" his voice resembled that of a frightened child, tears behind it, "Frodo."

She pulled herself to her knees and crawled to him, holding his face in her hands as a mother would. Tears ran from his auburn eyes, washing the dirt from her flesh.

"What have I done?" he gasped, "Please, Frodo."

"Hush," she whispered, "Hush, he understands, Boromir. He knows it is not you who did this."

_**Trinity…**_

He embraced her tightly, sobbing into the crook of her neck. Allowing it, she smoothed back his hair with tenderness. The ability to comfort was becoming easier and easier to display. Kneeling in the dirt, holding a grown man, Trinity felt such pity overwhelm her. An emotion that was almost entirely foreign. Like love.

_**What about Legolas? **_

_I do not love Legolas. I love him. I love Boromir. Legolas be damned. _

_**It is only pity, Trinity; you don't know how to love.**_

_Fuck off, Ebal_.

Trinity leaned in and rested her chin on the top of his head.

"I love you," he said quietly.

A smile crossed her face, "And I love you."

Boromir looked up in surprise and saw that breathtaking smile. With shaking hands, he touched and explored her face before his lips crashed onto hers. For the first time in years, she shared a kiss with meaning. His mouth moved heavily against hers, desperate, needing, and loving. When her mouth began to move with his, he buried his fingers in her hair, forcing her closer. Her hands swam over his back.

Only the sound of clashing swords halted them.

"Uruks," he murmured against her lips.

Grabbing her wrist tightly, they ran to the sound.

Merry and Pippin stood in a clearing, staring wide-eyed at the onslaught of Uruks coming for them. With surprising speed, Trinity and Boromir attacked, hacking at the hideous creatures with anything they could get their hands on. The Hobbits took to their example, slashing at the beasts with their own daggers, slicing through rotten flesh. Boromir broke away, raising the Horn of Gondor to his lips, and blew with all his might. Several times he repeated this action, taking the occasional rest to cut down an Uruk or two, then returned. Trinity broke away from the group, still fighting, but holding back.

"Run," Boromir shouted suddenly, clutching her by the arm and shoving her away from the battle.

The Halflings obeyed without question, sprinting away from harm. Instead of swords, they used stones, their aim shockingly accurate despite the circumstances. Trinity refused to move, rooted to the spot at Boromir's side. She glanced over to see him swinging his sword mightily, cutting down two Uruks at once.

She never saw the bow being drawn, but she saw him fall.

An arrow whizzed by her head, hitting Boromir in the chest. His gasp was heard even to death ears as he stumbled back in pain. Momentarily, he dropped to his knees.

"Boromir!" she screaming, trying to push past the Uruks that surrounded her.

His knees straightened, refusing to give in as he fought even harder than before. Another arrow struck him, this time in the shoulder. Trinity bit back a scream, launching herself at an Uruk in her effort to reach him. Again, he dropped to his knees and stared at Merry and Pippin. She pushed the Uruk's corpse away from her, but another one came, slicing her arm as she turned to help Boromir. Brown eyes watched her bravery, the fear behind her stance. For the last time, he stood and fought.

The third arrow pierced his side.

A cry of sorrow escaped Trinity's lips as she finally made it to his side. Even as the blood ran down her right arm in a terrifying gush, she held his face in her hands. Merry and Pippin let out a scream, together, harmonious, as they rushed forth into battle. She held him close, sobbing into his hair, and heard the heavy thumping of Uruks rushing past. Among them, steady footsteps could be heard.

This time, she heard the bow being drawn.

But she did not move, rather, she prayed it would hit her.

Something ran into the Uruk, knocking it to the ground. Or someone. Aragorn battled with the gruesome thing while Trinity pulled her lover's heavy body to the safe shade of a tree. Her hand gripped one arrow, but Boromir's gloved one covered hers.

"It's too late," he gasped.

She shook her head stubbornly, tears sliding down her cheeks, "No! No! I can save you!"

Aragorn rushed to them.

"They took the little ones!" Boromir cried, choking.

The ranger surveyed his wounds with desperate eyes, "Hold still."

A bit of blood dripped from the corner of Boromir's mouth, Trinity leaned over and wiped it away gently.

"Frodo," he breathed, "Where is Frodo."

"I let Frodo go," Aragorn whispered.

"Then you did what I could not," one of his hands clutched at Aragorn's hair, the other remained holding Trinity's, "I tried to take the Ring from him."

The ranger shook his head, "The Ring is beyond our reach now."

Boromir's hand tightened around hers.

"Forgive me," he panted, "I did not see it. I have failed you all."

Again, Aragorn shook his head.

"No, Boromir, you fought bravely. You have kept your honor."

His hand traveled to free his friend of the arrow, but Boromir gasped heavily.

"Leave it! It is over. The world of Men will fall. And all will come to darkness and my city to ruin."

Trinity exchanged a painful glance with Aragorn. He knew then that whatever words he spoke must comfort the both of them.

"I do not know what's in my blood," he whispered to the dying man, "but I swear to you, I will not let the White City fall nor our people fail."

Boromir's gaze traveled to her, "Our people."

A little smile crossed his face; he reached for his sword with a shaking hand. Carefully, Aragorn placed it in his grasp. With this done, he looked to Trinity again.

The sound of fluttering leaves announced Legolas' presence.

"Our people," he whispered, holding the blade above his heart and moved his gaze back to Aragorn, "I would have followed you, my brother. My captain. My king."

The expression behind his eyes died, Trinity gripped Boromir's tunic desperately and shook him. What she hoped to gain from the gesture, she did not know. Perhaps she thought, hoped, that the sudden force would bring him back or give them a few more precious moments together. Whatever the case, nothing occurred.

"No," she murmured, "No. No!"

Her voice rose to a scream, "Get up! Please! Boromir, get up!"

Thick tears caused her words to shake, "Don't leave me!"

"Trinity," Aragorn's hand rested on her shoulder, "He's gone, there is nothing that can be done now."

She shook her head widely, leaning in to place desperate kisses on his cheeks and neck. Warm hands gripped her, pulling her off the corpse of her companion. An embrace held her, as words of comfort were spoken in her ears. Legolas was not sure how their relationship had progressed, but told himself not to care. He watched Aragorn grip the dead man's face in his hands.

"Be at peace," he mumbled clearly, "Son of Gondor."

Then, he kissed the man's forehead.

Legolas' arms tightened around the woman in his arms, Gimli finally met them, looking on the scene with saddened eyes. For a long time after the others left, and Boromir body was floating down the river in the second boat, Trinity and Legolas stayed like that. Until, at last, she pulled away and looked up at him with eyes made of grief and pain.

He wished vainly for her former ambivalence, as this hurt within her seemed too much to bear.

"We should go," her voice was tired, but even.

When they reached the shore, Legolas pushed the last boat into the river. Trinity sank onto the ground beside Gimli, who gave her a look of husky sympathy. Aragorn examined his sword with great interest a few feet away.

"Hurry!" Legolas called to the others behind him, "Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore."

Aragorn did not answer, Trinity and Legolas both looked at him with questioning eyes. His only answer was to look to the shore across the river.

Comprehension flickered in the Elf's eyes, "You mean not to follow them."

"Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands," Aragorn said softly.

Legolas walked towards him slowly, as if in a dream. Trinity rose as well, joining them as the Dwarf's husky voice sounded.

"Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed."

Trinity remained farther from them, just out of arm's reach. Aragorn put his hands on Gimli and Legolas' shoulders.

"Not if we hold true to each other," he replied, "We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left."

The ranger turned away, starting toward the woods.

"Leave all that can be spared behind," he called behind him, "We travel light."

He sheathed his sword, "Let us hunt some Uruk."

"Yes!" cried Gimli in excitement, sprinting after him.

Legolas exchanged a look with Trinity and reached out to stroke her arm in a comforting movement. She smiled tiredly before running after the Dwarf and ranger. Legolas followed them, taking up the rear.


	13. Edoras

Disclaimer: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

OoOoOoOoOo

Aragorn pressed his ear to the stone, eyes closed in concentration. As Trinity studied him, they opened.

"Their pace has quickened," he whispered, glancing up at her.

She offered him a helping hand, which he took without protest.

"They must have caught our scent," he said while allowing her to pull him up.

Aragorn began to run, saying only the word "hurry" in warning. Trinity sighed before looking back to assure herself that the Dwarf and Elf still followed. They lagged behind a little, Legolas in the lead. Presently, he stopped, gazing up at her with eagerness in his eyes.

"Come on Gimli!" he called to the Dwarf.

The terrain was rocky and, though it was not really a surprise by now, it was still troublesome. For three days, they had kept a close pursuit of the Orcs, neither food nor rest was given to them. Yet still, they ran without complaint. Well, that was not entirely true. Between heavy gasps, Gimli would grumble his woes about this new quest. But he did not stop, and that was what mattered.

Aragorn halted to pick a metal object, which until then had been pressed into the dirt and grass. Trinity leaned in to look at it, her hand on his wrist. Emerald and azure eyes studied it carefully.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," he murmured, moving the pin between his fingers. She gazed at it evenly.

Legolas ran past him to study the land ahead briefly, and turned back.

"They may yet be alive," he replied in a hushed voice.

_They are alive. They must be. _

Aragorn looked to him, then Trinity. "Less than a day ahead of us. Come."

Obediently, she followed, but halted when she heard the clanging of metal behind her. She turned quickly to see Gimli roll out clumsily from behind a boulder. In moments, he scrambled to his feet. Trinity smiled slightly, turning to follow the others once again.

"Come, Gimli," she called to him, "We're gaining on them!"

"I'm wasted on cross-country," he hollered back, "We Dwarves are natural sprinters. Very dangerous over short distances."

This prompted a quiet laugh from the woman. "I'm sure," she said with sarcasm biting her tone.

So far, she had been successful at keeping her thoughts of Boromir at bay. This isn't to say she did not care for him, for surely he had meant so much to her, but she reminded herself steadily that the others were her goal. Boromir was a warning not to become emotionally involved with anything else in this place.

_**That is not the answer, Trinity. **_

_I told you to fuck off. _

_**Why are you doing this? Being so cruel?**_

_Because it is my body, my mind, and you were supposed to move on years ago. You promised me. _

Aragorn and Legolas stopped suddenly.

"Rohan," Aragorn breathed, "Home of the Horse-lords."

Her eyes took in the rocky plateau.

"There's something strange at work here."

The tone in his voice made her look to him, his eyes were thoughtful.

"Some evil gives speed to these creatures," Aragorn continued, "Sets its will against us."

Legolas moved ahead of them, watching the distance intently.

"Legolas," Aragorn called to the Elf, "What do your Elf-eyes see?"

"The Uruks turn northeast," he answered dutifully, "They're taking the Hobbits to Isengard."

"What does that mean?" she asked Aragorn.

He looked at the ground with troubled eyes, "Saruman."

For a bit longer, they ran, but the muffled sound of hoof beats drifted to their ears. Aragorn motioned for them to hide, and Legolas grabbed Trinity's wrist, pulling her behind the rock with the others. Again, when faced with the need to conceal herself, she had merely stood there with that hypnotized look. Even when under the rock's cover, he did not allow his hand to leave her, and felt the cold flesh beneath his fingertips. Now especially, since the harm Boromir's death had caused her, the need to protect her was overbearing. The horses rode past. Aragorn stood.

"Riders of Rohan," he yelled to them, "what news from the Mark?"

They turned in a great sweeping arch. Hesitantly, Legolas released Trinity and went to join his friend. She and Gimli appeared shortly after. All four stood patiently while the riders circled them with an unfriendly air, spears pointed to them. Immediately, her hands traveled to the hilts of her knives, ready to draw them if need arose.

One man rode forward, "What business does and Elf, a Man, a Woman, and a Dwarf have in the Riddermark? Speak quickly!"

Trinity scowled deeply as his brazen display.

"Give me your name, horse-master," Gimli replied tolerantly, "and I shall give you mine."

Aragorn gave him a sidelong glance as the man dismounted, walking up to Gimli with an irritated air. The ranger put his hand on the Dwarf's shoulder, as if holding him back.

"I would cut off your head, Dwarf," the man sneered, "if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Legolas pulled his bow, aiming the arrow at the man's tender throat.

"You would die before your stroke fell!"

Aragorn put his hand on the bow, pushing it down slowly. Gimli exhaled at the dramatic situation.

The introduction began with Aragorn, no doubt because he was the only one not set to kill at that moment.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli, son of Glóin, and Legolas of the Woodland Realm. And this is Trinity."

The man waited for more of Trinity's introduction, but received none. "Does this woman have no home?"

"No," she replied simply.

He studied her for a moment, brow creased. She stared back at him composedly.

"You've seen another like me?" Hope rose in her chest, against her will.

"Yes," he muttered, keeping his eyes trained on hers, "In Rohan. There was a girl, and a woman with hair like the moon – "

"Destiny," she whispered with a faint smile, "And Dezaria."

The man seemed honestly surprised by her knowledge of them. "Are you their kin?"

Trinity nodded, eyes closed in relief. Exhaling slowly, she tried to form a coherent question in her mind.

"Are they there still?" she asked quietly.

"To my knowledge, yes."

Legolas saw the look of complete relief and thanks mixed into her features. Without hesitation, he touched her shoulder gently, smiling. This was his silent way of sharing congratulations with her. She inclined her head slightly, showing respect as well as thanks for the Elf's kindness. Again, she looked to the man.

"I thank you for your honesty, and for keeping them safe when I could not." A shadow of despair touched her face.

"My name is Émoer, my Lady, and you are welcome."

"We are friends of Rohan," Aragorn saw the opportunity and took it gratefully, "and of Théoden, your king."

Émoer looked to the ground, "Théoden no longer recognized friend from foe."

He reached up and removed his helm. "Not even his own kin."

The spears rose one by one, until they were free to leave if they so chose.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands," he explained, "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning."

His eyes turned from Aragorn to Trinity, "He walks here and there, they say as an old man hooded and cloaked. And everywhere, his spies slip past our nets."

"We are no spies," Aragorn said evenly. The man tore his gaze from her to him again.

"We track a part of Uruk-hai westward across the plain," he told Émoer, "They have taken two of our friends captive."

Émoer shook his head, "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

Already, Trinity knew what had happened.

"But there were two Hobbits," shouted Gimli in hope, "Did you see two Hobbits with them?"

She put a hand on his helm gently, silently informing him not to be so optimistic.

Aragorn placed the same hope in these men, "They would be small. Only children to your eyes."

He made minimal eye contact, "We left none alive."

He gestured behind him, "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

Trinity peered past him, watching the smoke rise from the corpses. Her hand moved from Gimli's head to his shoulder, leaning slightly to reach it. Legolas looked to Aragorn, who only stared at the smoldering heap.

"Dead?" Gimli whispered.

Émoer nodded slowly, sympathy in his gaze, "I am sorry."

A sharp whistle came from his lips, "Hasufel! Arod!"

Two horses came forth, one colorless, the other ginger.

Émoer took them by the reigns and offered them to the four, "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters. Farewell."

He mounted his own steed and looked down at them.

"Look for your friends," he encouraged, "But do not trust to hope. It has forsaken these lands."

Trinity looked at the ground, but raised her head to meet his eyes.

"I never hope," she said quietly.

He nodded before calling to his company: "We ride north."

They watched them leave before mounting the horses, Gimli and Legolas on one, Trinity and Aragorn on the other. When they reached the pile, the Dwarf immediately began to pick through the ashes with his axe. Trinity examined an Uruk's head on a pole, tongue hanging out like an animal. A bizarre sight that stuck a bit of humor in her, as a slight smile touched her lips. Carefully her hand touched the leathery flesh, her own face held a look of amazement.

"It's one of their wee belts," Gimli said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Trinity pulled her hand away and looked at the charred metal in his hands. Legolas whispered something in grief. Aragorn gritted his teeth before launching a strong kick at an Uruk helmet, the sorrowful scream from his mouth expressed her pain better than anything she could have done. He dropped to his knees.

"We failed them," Gimli whispered.

Aragorn stared at the ground, while Trinity's eyes were fixed on him.

He reached over and touched the ground, "A Hobbit lay here."

Repetition of the action, as he felt the grass just above the former spot, "And the other."

She joined him. His brow creased as he studied the spots.

"They crawled," Trinity continued for him, reading his thoughts.

He nodded, following the Halfing's path.

"Their hands were bound."

Trinity rushed ahead of him, picking a section of rope carefully from the grassland. She handed it to Aragorn when he joined her.

Examining it, his eyes widened.

"Their bonds were cut," she said with a smile.

He stopped talking briefly, following the indentations.

"They ran over here. They were followed."

Aragorn's pace quickened to a slow jog, "The tracks lead away from the battle, into Fangorn Forest."

In the presence of many trees, they halted.

"Fangorn?" Gimli breathed, "What madness drove them in there?"

Trinity exhaled slowly, glancing quickly at the others, "Whatever it was must have been a fate worse than death." She paused for a moment; an anticipating smile lit up her face, "I'll go first."

The forest was large, old, judging by the size of the tree trunks. Dead plants lingered, unwilling to give way to the new spring, the new life that threatened to choke them out of existence.

_I don't blame you. Keep fighting. _

Gimli scooped a generous amount of black liquid from a leaf and put it to his lips. With an expression of disgust, he spat it back out.

"Orc blood," he grunted, clamping his jowls together to rid himself of the taste.

They continued on, trusting Aragorn's ability to track.

"There are strange tracks," the ranger mumbled.

Gimli toddled forth, watching with wide eyes, "The air is so close in here."

Legolas looked around slowly, eyes fixing on every plant in sight. Trinity followed his movements with her eyes, measuring his thoughtful expression.

"This forest is old," he murmured, "Very old. Full of memory…and anger."

A deep groan sounded, unlike anything she had heard before. It did not require breath; rather it was like a house settling. Something that was terrifying to untrained ears, but natural to antiqued walls. Gimli's ax rose, gripped tightly between thick hands, and Aragorn looked into the treetops. Trinity, however, could not take her eyes away from the Elf. Subconsciously, she blamed the other presence her mind.

"The trees are speaking to each other."

"Gimli," Aragorn hissed, "lower your ax!"

He did so, slowly.

Legolas turned to gaze at him, "They have feelings, my friend. The Elves began it. Waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

"Talking trees," the Dwarf scoffed, tearing Trinity from her hypnotic spell, "What do trees have to talk about? Hm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings."

Her laughter was rich, musical as she shook her head. Aragorn and Legolas moved on, Trinity turned to Gimli.

"Come on," she told him, a whisper of amusement still present in her tone.

When they reached the others, they felt hostility in the air. Trinity placed herself on Legolas' right side.

"What it is?" she whispered in his ear, cool breath caressing the sensitive skin.

He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feel, then opened them. Careful observation showed deep within the cerulean irises.

"The White Wizard approaches."

"Do not let him speak," Aragorn whispered, "He will put a spell on us. We must be quick."

Precise hands reached for their weapons, only Trinity refused to draw her blades. A familiar presence worked into her senses. As weapons flew by her, aimed by the others, she hadn't the time or thought to yell out the name behind the feeling.

_Gandalf! _

White light destroyed their weapons as Trinity screamed the word "stop" moments too late.

She ran to the rock ahead of the bright figure just as it began to speak.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits."

The light left a tiny circular ring around her pupils, its intensity made her want to flinch; her curiosity left her without the ability. Her hands supported her weight against the stone as she watched it, trying to make out the familiar shape.

"Where are they?" Aragorn shouted, hiding his awe behind dismay.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

The ranger seemed taken aback, "Who are you?"

Nothing.

_Gandalf._

The whisper would not press through her lips, it was unwilling. She looked back at the others, catching Legolas' eye for but a moment. In her eyes, he saw pain and hope and anger.

"Show yourself!" Aragorn demanded.

Light faded, and in its place stood Gandalf, clothed in heavenly white. Everything about him rang pure, good. Trinity reached out, letting her fingers brush the cloth robe.

_Gandalf. _

_**He is alive.**_

"It cannot be," Aragorn whispered.

"Forgive me," Legolas sighed, "I mistook you for Saruman."

He knelt, the clunking of armor announced Gimli hastily attempting to do the same.

"I am Saruman," the wizard said, "Or rather, Saruman as she should have been."

Still, Aragorn could not seem to believe the sight. "You fell."

Gandalf's eyes took on a reminiscent air.

"Through fire…and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and every day was as long as a life age of the Earth. But it was not the end; I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done."

"Gandalf," the ranger whispered.

For a moment, the elderly one seemed confused.

"Gandalf? Yes…that was what they used to call me."

Aragorn nodded.

"Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

Gimli stepped forward on the verge of tears, "Gandalf."

The wizard smiled, "I am Gandalf the White."

He looked down at Trinity, offering her a helping hand. With shaking fingers she took it, allowing him to pull her up. Allowing him to assist her.

"And I come back to you now at the turn of the tide. Come, we must move quickly."

With the speech made, Gandalf began to walk through the forest, with the others on his heels.

"One stage of your journey is over," he said through the sound of crunching leaves at his feet, "Another begins. We must travel to Edoras with all speed."

"Edoras?" Gimli's tone was one of disbelief, "That is no short distance!"

"We hear of trouble in Rohan," Aragorn informed the wizard, "It goes ill with the king."

Gandalf stopped for a moment, "Yes, and it will not be easily cured."

Gimli joined them with a huff of indignation, "Then we have run all this way for nothing? Are we to leave those poor Hobbits here, in this horrid, dark, dank tree-infested--?"

The forest growled. The Dwarf jumped.

"I mean, charming!" Gimli corrected with a twitchy smile, "quite charming forest."

"It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn," Gandalf replied, "A great power has been sleeping here for many long years. The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that starts an avalanche in the mountains."

Aragorn smiled, "In one thing you have not changed, dear friend."

"Hmm?"

"You still speak in riddles."

They laughed together, just a little. Legolas smiled politely, but Trinity was staring in the distance, trying to keep her mind on the task at hand. Her feet moved mechanically, foot by foot. Step by step.

_Put down the gun, Margaret. _

_I c-…I ca-…I can't feel my legs… _

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the Elder Days. The Ents are going to wake up and find that they are strong."

_You shot her, you pathetic whore! _

"Strong!? Oh, that's good."

_Let me go! I'll kill her!_

Legolas heard her breath increase. His eyes moved toward her figure, watching in concern as her teeth clenched together. Now was not the time for a fit.

"So stop your fretting, Master Dwarf. Merry and Pippin are quite safe. In fact, they are far safer than you are about to be."

_I'll kill her! _

Cautiously, he reached out and touched her arm. She glared at him sharply, pupils dilated to their full extent, and hatred shown in them. But as she stared, the glower lessened. Ambivalence took hold once again, smothering any emotion left.

"This new Gandalf's more grumpy than the old one," Gimli grumbled.

Trinity laughed without a sound.

They reached the light again. Back into the open air, they stood amongst the green and listened with inquisitive ears as Gandalf let forth a strange whistle. One that seemed to echo endlessly in the clear air and prompted a male horse to gallop toward them. White like fresh snow, and incredibly agile.

"That is one of the Mearas," Legolas murmured breathlessly, "unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

"Shadowfax," Gandalf confirmed, "He is the lord of all horses and has been my friend through many dangers."

On they rode, till at last they were forced to camp. Exhausted, they laid down to sleep. But troubled minds can heed no rest, and so Trinity arose, surrendering to the unease. She was not alone; Gandalf watched the land ahead, the gathering darkness. Without thought, she joined him.

"Evil does not sleep," he said quietly.

She sighed gently, "And neither shall I."

A moment of silent contemplation took place.

"Yes," he whispered, "but one ponders for what reason. You have no obligation to us, and yet you joined this quest of your own free will. The turmoil in these lands is foreign to you."

Steadily, she stared at the ground, "Not so foreign."

"What do you seek, Trinity?"

_**Yes, Trinity, what do you seek?**_

She frowned, "Redemption. For past sins."

"There is no redemption for you."

A humorless smile grazed her features.

"I have heard that many times. From many people. I know it is true."

Now it was the wizard's turn to frown, "Then why try for deliverance that will not receive you?"

_Pray for me…_

"Because," she mumbled, kicking a stone with feeling, "I am a person."

It flew from sight, the distance amazingly far, the force behind it even more astonishing.

"I am a person," she repeated quietly, "not just a weapon."

OoOoOoOoOo

They rode out the in the morning, as the sun beat down on them, they neared a stunningly simplistic city. The place seemed vaguely familiar to Trinity, like a distant dream or memory, it haunted her. Now Aragorn rode with Gimli, she with Legolas, and Gandalf rode alone.

"Edoras," Gandalf announced, "and the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say; do not look for welcome here."

Into the city they rode, without invitation. The gate remained open to them, though the wizard had said that welcome would not be received. As they rode through the village homes, the inhabitants stared. Like they were freaks.

_**You are a freak. Evil, and hateful.**_

_Yes. But I am a still part of you, dearest._

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli mumbled.

The horses were taken as they neared the Hall, and they continued on foot until reaching it. A man strolled out the large golden doors, inspecting them with weariness in his eyes. Gandalf smiled in greeting.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame," the man said.

The smile faded, replaced with scrutinizing eyes instead.

"By order of Grima Wormtongue."

He looked displeased with the name.

Comprehension flickered in the wizard's eyes, and he nodded to the others. Slowly, they gave forth their weapons. The men took Legolas' bow and knives, Gimli's axe, Aragorn's sword and dagger. Trinity stared at them darkly, unwilling to reveal exactly how many sharp objects and weapons were hidden on her slender body. She crossed her arms defiantly.

"Trinity," Gandalf said quietly, "do not make trouble."

She rolled her eyes, pulling the knives from either hip, the dagger from her boot, and the small blade from her thigh. There was a slight pause before she reached into the other boot and removed one more dagger, and another small blade strapped to her bracer. Gimli stared at her in amusement and awe, and she gave him a mischievous grin and a wink before nodded to Gandalf.

The man nodded toward Gandalf, "Your staff."

The wizard frowned. Summoning his invincible power to look elderly and helpless, he leaned heavily on the white staff. Legolas, understanding the intended ploy, offered him a helping arm.

"You would not part an old man from his walking stick."

The man let them pass, and Gandalf gave Aragorn a rather risqué wink as they entered. A bit of resentment passed through her. Already, she missed the feel of metal in her hands. Blood pounded in her temples as they entered the Hall, the heavy doors shut behind them. A feeble looking old man sat on the gold and red throne, eyes milky white. A snake like man whispered in his ear. Just by a mere glance, Trinity could tell that the words spoken were poison.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf called to the old man on the throne.

The voice that came forth was strained, "Why should I welcome you Gandalf Stormcrow?"

The snake man stood, "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. Láthspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent," Gandalf commanded, "keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm."

He raised his staff to the man's sight, who coward upon seeing it.

"His staff," his tone was panicked, "I told you to take the wizard's staff."

Men rushed forward, attacking them, but were knocked down by the remaining Fellowship.

"Theoden," Gandalf called, walking through the battle with infinite calm.

Trinity's fist caught the snake man in the throat, blood bubbled from his lips. Gimli went for another man's knees, successfully knocking him down to the Dwarf's height. From there, his strong, thick fists proceeded to render the victim unconscious.

"Son of Thengel."

Legolas struck down another, not at all tired from this degree of physical combat. Aragorn's fist stung from countless connections with teeth, but continued.

"Too long have you sat in the Shadows."

Trinity's prey tried to escape by crawling away, she caught his cloak and delivered a rather violent kick to his spine, causing him to cry out. Her hand caught his arm instead, twisting it vigorously. A silent warning; if he moved, she would break it. A compound fracture would be present from the force. With a flick of the rest, a small blade found itself in her grasp. Briefly, she thanked her own common sense, which had prevented her from removing this blade from her other bracer.

"I would stay still if I were you," Gimli called to him, sitting atop of his own victim's chest with ease.

"Hearken to me!"

Trinity looked up to see the old kind glare at Gandalf. Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas had stopped fighting, and now stood near the throne, watching with great interest.

"I release you from the spell."

The laughter that came next was dark, disturbing, and deeply mocking.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," the king said with a macabre grin.

The wizard dropped his robe, revealing the white purity underneath. The man in Trinity's grasp squirm, she grasped one of his fingers and pulled back, breaking it. He cried out in pain; a ghostly smile touched her features.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound."

_Dada, stop, Dada._

A woman rushed into the room and tried to reach the king, but Aragorn caught her.

"If I go, Théoden dies."

_Don't._

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him."

_I can't breathe._

"Rohan is mine!"

_Blood in my mouth._

The poor little girl.

"Be gone."

The man lunged, but was hit by a light from the staff, throwing him back. And it was done, he slumped forward and Aragorn released the woman, allowing her to run to Théoden and offer her assistance. Slowly, she pushed him back. His face transform, from old to young. Grey hair turned to blond, the skin tightened. The fair haired woman smiled, tears of joy in her eyes.

"I know your face," he whispered to her, "Éowyn."

Newly gray eyes surveyed the Fellowship before him.

"Gandalf?"

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," the wizard replied.

He rose, proud and regal, a true king.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," he said to the Hall.

He looked down at his hand in disbelief and thanks.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better," Gandalf told him, "if they grasped your sword."

It was offered to him by a man in armor. Slowly, Théoden King drew it from its sheath. His eyes measured the blade.

Trinity leaned down to whisper in Grima Wormtongue's ear, "I hope he slits your throat with that. For if he does not, then you will die by my hand."

He only whimpered in response as the king's eyes found his.

Gimli stared at her in incredulity.

Two guards grabbed Grima, leading him out the heavy doors, and threw him down the stone steps.

"I've only ever served you, my lord," he gasped as Théoden slowly made his way toward him, like death.

Trinity was painfully excited by the entire episode, and bit her lower lip to keep from shouting curses. Gimli's eyes were trained on her, he nudged Legolas' knee, intending the force the Elf to watch her as well. Cerulean iris focused on her form.

"Your leechcraft would have had me crawling on al fours like a beast!"

"Send me not from your sight," Grima begged.

The king swung, but Aragorn caught him before he could strike.

"No, My Lord!"

_Dezaria, sweetie, it's all for you. _

"No, My Lord!"

_You be a good girl. _

"Enough blood has been spilt on his account."

Aragorn offered Grima a helping hand, but he hawked back and spat before fleeing.

"Get out of my way!" he yelled at the villagers, pushing through the crowd.


	14. Evalgine's Ring and a Hostile Nature

Lady Galadriel paused, a faint smile touching her lips

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

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_Scarlette, _

_I apologize, for everything I have done or did or prepared to do. My reasoning was flawed, my mind as well. I admit to being insufferable in the past, that I made choices that were less than desirable to you and your family and friends. Never will another lie pass my lips to you; never will I say you do not understand. Now please, for all the good left in your soul, come relieve me from this place. I am not, as these 'people' so blandly put it "crazy." I can walk, speak, bleed, I am human. Let me live, let me make mistakes. I feel like I am dying here, this place makes me "crazy." _

_The others speak to themselves, laugh at the walls. They grab each other, hit each other, all as an excuse to cause suffering, And when one person has enough sense to object to this madness, the workers come with their pills and their shots and then there is no pain, no suffering. There is nothing, only darkness. How can I fight something I cannot understand? How can I defeat an invisible foe that attacks from the inside? Something claws at me, I think it is anger._

_Do not let the anger come, or things may get violent. If one more worker ties my arm to a chair to give me their shot, so your "God" help me, blood will be spilt. And Scarlette dear, it will not be mine. I want out, I want help. Please, please come for me. Now I see what I really am, it terrifies me. I am a thief, a whore, and a liar. I am evil, I only corrupt this place. I am not good for the others' health. _

_Release me from Hell,_

_Trinity_

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Trinity could not bring herself to participate in the funeral procession. It seemed Théoden's son, Théodred, had lost his life in battle. Legolas and Gimli felt the same, and stayed in the Hall with her. Presently, she sat in a wooden chair, feet propped on the table, twirling a knife in her hands, running the sharp blade against her palm. Legolas leaned neatly against a column, watching the smoke from Gimli's pipe curl into the air. Distantly, he heard footsteps approach. Trinity must have heard the same, as she dropped her feet suddenly and sat straight, staring at a darkened doorway with carefully observant eyes. Red hair appeared, curly, untamed, with a heart shaped face connected to it and a young body of a girl attached to that. Gray eyes watered as she ran into the room.

Confusion filled him, and he watched as Trinity rose from her chair and sprinting to the girl. Her arms wrapped around her, like a mother's, and stroked her hair as she burst into noisy sobs. Another woman followed, walking steadily into the room with a kindly smile. Her hair was fair, almost white, and her eyes a shocking violet. She stood by Trinity, resting a pale hand on her shoulder, and let her gaze fall over the Elf and Dwarf, whose puzzlement was clearly displayed on their faces.

"We have visitors. Welcome, strangers," she said, her voice was sweet and innocent.

"It is a pleasure to be in Edoras, beautiful lady," Gimli huffed.

Legolas looked down at him and noted with amusement that he seemed smitten by this woman, who blushed at his compliment. She squeezed Trinity's shoulder gently and made her way to them.

"My name is Destiny," she said, a genial smile on her face, "and that is Dezaria."

The Elf took her hand, pressing his lips to the back of it, as he was accustomed to do when meeting a lady. Again, her cheeks flushed.

"I am Legolas, and this is Gimli," he could not halt his confusion long enough to hold a proper introduction, "Are you part of Trinity's kin?"

Destiny nodded, "Yes, Master Elf, we are."

"And is that girl her child?" Gimli asked, still staring at Trinity and the girl she held.

Destiny followed his gaze, "Trinity is her nanny, but much like a mother, I suppose."

Upon hearing her name, Trinity looked up, and gently steered Dezaria to the spot where the others stood. Giving Destiny a quick hug, her eyes met Legolas'. She gave him a tired, grateful smile, as Dezaria clutched at her belt with one hand. Tears no longer ran from her eyes, but were still red from the effort.

"Where is Faith?" she asked Destiny upon releasing her.

She shook her head, "We don't know. What about Scarlette?"

"Rivendell, where this Fellowship began," Trinity answered, running her fingers through Dezaria's hair. Grateful for the comfort of a motherly touch, the girl leaned into her, closing her eyes in an exhausted expression. "I told her to stay there, and I would bring you back as soon as possible."

Destiny frowned.

"What about them?" she asked simply, looking to Legolas and Gimli.

Trinity went silent for several moments.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"My room?" Destiny's voice was unsure, yet Trinity nodded anyway.

"Show me."

They turned to leave, young Dezaria on their heels. But Trinity turned suddenly and gripped her shoulders.

"Stay here, baby."

"But – "

"No arguments, not today, I am very tired," her emerald eyes were soft, "Please, just stay here for now."

She hugged her tightly and whispered something in her ear, something only Legolas heard.

"I promise, they will not bite."

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"What in The Almighty's name happened? How are we here? Why are we all separated?" Trinity asked, once Destiny had closed the door to her room.

It smelled of wood and vanilla, much like Destiny herself.

She shook her head, blond hair shaking with it, "I have no clue. At this point, I am as lost as you. My main instinct when we got here was to protect Dezaria. Apparently, I think, we were the only ones who arrived together."

Trinity crossed her arms across her chest and leaned against the stone walls, while Destiny sank onto the bed. No words passed between them, the silence holding long as each one tried to piece together what was happening.

"You haven't been taking your medication."

Trinity looked at her, a little startled by the change of topic. "What?"

"Your medication," she repeated, "Why haven't you been taking it?"

Trinity glared at her, "I did not bring it with me."

"You're supposed to have it with you at all times," she whispered, "You know what the doctor said – "

"This isn't the time for this, Destiny," Trinity said, her tone a little colder than she intended it to be.

Destiny seemed wounded, but composed herself quickly enough.

"Then what about those people out there? The ones you came here with?"

A sigh flowed from her full lips, as she recounted to Destiny what had happened thus far.

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The silence in the Hall was near unbearable, so uncomfortable that one found it hard to breathe. Still, Legolas and Gimli remained in their former positions, staring at the passage the two women had disappeared into. Dezaria was silent, awkward around new people, especially male people. Her aunties kept her so sheltered

"If it's any consolation," Gimli said to Legolas, "I had no idea either."

The Elf frowned, "She lost her kin, and never told us."

"She does that sometimes," the girl piped up, "gets quiet about us. None of us know why."

Legolas looked to her, surveying much wisdom behind the young face.

"You seem close to her," he observed, referring to the emotional reunion beforehand.

Like the fair headed woman, she blushed; shy at anyone direction a conversation toward her. Instinctively, Legolas' hand reached for the chain around hit neck, long fingers brushed the ring there. A memory of sweet Evalgine drifted through his mind.

"As close as I can get. She's closed up, blocked off. Like she just doesn't care anymore."

Legolas did not doubt it an apologetic smile spread over his lips. Gimli, who was completely uncomfortable at this time, decided it best to amble away before anymore tears were shed. One happy reunion was all the Dwarf could tolerate that day. Dezaria exhaled slowly, half in exasperation and half in boredom.

"They always leave me out of things," she continued, "I don't think they realize I want to know what's going on. I want to help."

Legolas smiled softly, "One day, Little One, I am sure you will show what you can do. Until then, rest easy, knowing that they wish to keep you safe."

It was then that the doors burst open, and Éowyn rushed in, struggling to carry two children. A boy and girl, Dezaria and Legolas rushed forth, eager to offer her assistance. Éowyn handed Legolas the unconscious boy, and handed the girl to Gandalf as he walked in behind her.

"Dezaria, go get your aunt."

The sound of her shoes echoed against the floor as she ran.

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Destiny sat with her hands folded neatly in her lap, and had listened politely. Without interruptions or prejudice, she heard about Trinity's love of Boromir, her mistake with Haldir, the fall of Gandalf and the resurrection, the Balrog, the breaking of the Fellowship, her oath to Frodo. But nothing disturbed her more than the entity's love of Legolas and her fits, which seemed to be related. Miss Destiny Motto was a Harvard graduate; she could piece this puzzle together within hours if she needed too.

"What should I do?" Trinity asked quietly.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Destiny whispered, "You made a promise to Frodo and you must honor it."

She clenched her teeth, "I can't."

"Yes," her friend snapped back, "you can."

The door flung open, and a red-cheeked, breathless Dezaria faced them.

"Kids...hurt," she gasped between heavy breaths, "help."

They pushed past her, making into the Hall with haste. Trinity and Destiny inspected the children. Destiny took the girl, and Trinity studied the boy. Aragorn stood nearby her, looking down at him with conflicting eyes.

"How does he fair?" None had requested the ranger's help, though he undoubtedly held plenty of skill in this area.

She glanced up at him, then back to the boy, "It is exhaustion and malnourishment, perhaps a bruise or two from falling from the horse. Fed him and let him rest."

Éowyn woke him gently, and offered both children soup. They took it without complaint or thanks, and ate as though they had starved for weeks.

"They had no warning," she told the others, "They were unarmed. Now the Wild Men are moving through the Westfold, burning as they go."

Legolas and Aragorn exchanged a glance. The king took his throne, Gandalf sat in the empty seat beside him.

"Rock, cot, and tree," Éowyn sighed.

"Where is mama?" cried the little girl. Destiny put a cloak around her shoulders, hushing her.

"This is but a taste of the terror that Saruman will unleash," Gandalf told Théoden, "All the more potent for he is driven now by fear of Sauron. Ride out and met him head on."

He reached out and touched the king's arm, "Draw him away from your women and children. You must fight."

"You have two thousand good men riding north as we speak," Aragorn informed him, "Émoer is loyal to you. His men will return and fight for their king."

Trinity settled beside him as Théoden rose from is throne, Gandalf stood as well.

"They will be three hundred leagues from here by now;" he said harshly, "Émoer cannot help us."

Trinity stared at him evenly, "Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens."

The king's jaw set, "I know what it is you want of me, but I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war."

Gimli chewed his food noisily; Trinity reached over and snatched a piece of meat from his plate, smiling innocently as he glowered at her.

"Open war is upon you," Aragorn replied, "whether you would risk it or not."

Théoden turned sharply, "When last I looked Théoden, not Aragorn, was king of Rohan."

Gimli took a swig of his ale, letting the majority of it run down his beard. He belched, then wiped at his mouth with his own red whiskers. Legolas gave him a look of disgust and Trinity smiled discreetly.

"Then what is the king's decision?" Gandalf asked.

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"Helm's Deep," Gandalf said the words as though they were a curse.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and Trinity followed him to the stables. He was a surprisingly fast walker when angered.

"They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight," Gimli added, "Who will defend them if not their king?"

Aragorn focused his eyes straight ahead, "He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people. Helm's Deep has saved them in the past."

"There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf said, "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will, but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan."

He turned to the ranger, "He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold."

Aragorn nodded. "They will hold."

Gandalf turned then to his horse, to Shadowfax, and stroked him gently. "They Grey Pilgrim. That's why they used to call me. Three hundred lives of Men I've walked this earth, and now I have no time."

He mounted the horse, "With luck, my search will not be in vain. Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the east."

"Go," Aragorn whispered, moving to the side to allow him passage. He rode hard, fast, away from them.

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"Are you prepared?" Trinity asked her friends. Destiny and Dezaria nodded, both frightened, but eager.

With the sunlight shining on her, Dezaria smiled at her nanny, a wide, innocent and genuinely happy smile. The type that read she was content just to have them all together. Trinity smiled back, the same smile and rested her forehead against the girl's.

"Join the villagers," she told them quietly, "Blend in amongst them for as long as you can."

Dezaria's smile faded, "What about you?"

Emerald eyes silently scolded her, "I gave my word to help the Fellowship, baby, and I will. I stay with Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli for now."

The teenager stared at the ground, Trinity kissed her cheek.

"We will be a family again, I promise, but give it time."

"I think Gimli's a grump," Dezaria announced suddenly.

Her nanny put her finger to her lips, "He is, but he mustn't know it."

"Why?"

"Because," she whispered, "He is much more amusing when he's not nice."

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Legolas and Trinity walked side by side, her eyes constantly studying him. Wondering, pondering, why the entity in her mind loved him so much. Why did Ebal long for him still? He left her. Light reflected from something close to his throat, catching her eye. Without thought, she reached over and caught it, carefully pulling the chain out of the safety of the tunic. Simultaneously, she walked and studied it, moving it between her nimble fingers. The movement startled Legolas; he hadn't expected her to do such a thing. She seemed so distant, so cold, not at all the type to wonder.

"Did the mortal give you this?" She asked breathlessly, the curve of the ring too much for her to bear.

"It was I who gave it to her," he replied quietly, "We were going to elope, and be wed in my father's city."

_**That is my ring.**_

Her eyes narrowed.

_I know. I remember. _

"Love should not be hidden," she told him, letting the ring rest against the green fabric, "No matter what the outcome is."

Legolas looked at her, as if truly for the first time. Around her neck, below the thin cloth choker, was a delicate silver chain. The charm tucked neatly between her breasts, under the fabric. His fingers reached for the chain, gently pulling until he could see the amulet clearly. The metal was fashioned artfully into a dove, wrapped in thorns; a single emerald marked its eye.

"A lover's token," she whispered, full lips curved into a soft smile.

His brow creased as he studied it closely. It seemed a strange symbol of affection, this innocent creature being choked to death by sharpness. But for her, it made sense. The one who gave her this truly knew her, in an intimate way that none else had.

She was watching him, eyes unreadable beneath thick, curling lashes.

Legolas released it, allowing it to drop against the pale flesh.

"Love should not be hidden," he told her, coining the same phrase she had used with him.

_Sins of the flesh. _

"It was not love," she replied coldly, "it was obsession in extravagant disguise. Hiding the true hate and disdain beneath it."

Those hypnotic eyes watched her, silently praying to the Valar that she would not be so cold.

He could feel the darkness settle in her mind.

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Trinity could hear the sound of inhuman shrieks, the smell of panic rose to her nostrils. Both she and Aragorn ran to the hill ahead, where they had seen Legolas sprint over moments before. Skillfully, his knife cut through an Orc.

"A scout!" he yelled back to them, giving the foul beast one more kick.

Aragorn ran for help, leaving Trinity at the Elf's side.

The others came with frightening speed. Toppling over the hill with little poise, the Wargs charged after them. Aragorn and his support arrived almost too late, all on horses. Legolas swung himself up on Gimli's, and Aragorn grasped, Trinity's wrist, pulling her onto his. She watched in slight wonder as the two forces rammed together, tripped both horses and Wargs alike. Their riders crashed to the ground gracelessly.

Trinity watched Gimli fall from the steed, sideways, onto the ground. He let out a little grunt, but scrambled to his feet with surprising speed. She swung her legs over the side of Aragorn's and jumped, rolling as she hit the grass to avoid an Orc's spear, which landed only inches from where she had landed.

"Bring your pretty face to my ax!" Gimli taunted one beast, preparing to swing.

From a few feet away, Legolas shot it down before the Dwarf had the chance to wound it.

He huffed with indignation, "That one counts as mine!"

Trinity laughed as she cut down on Orc, slicing him in the side. She did not see the Warg rider come at her from behind. It knocked her down easily, taking her breath away, and she watched as one of Théoden's men shot it down. Gimli's hostility increased with each swing of his ax, as did Aragorn's, whose mighty sword skills were unmatched. She scrambled to her feet and stabbed another Orc, just as Legolas' arrow found it. They nodded to each other in short greeting before going their separate ways, killing every disgusting creature in their path.

She turned in time to watch a dead Warg pin Gimli to the ground. As she started toward him, two more things toppled on top of him. An Orc, and yet another Warg, Gimli grunted in discomfort. Her hands gripped him by what little chain mail showed, and she heaved, sliding him out with ease. The battle lessened, and finally slowed to a near stop. Only then, did Legolas, Gimli, and Trinity find each other again.

"Are you alright?" asked the Elf without hesitation.

She nodded.

Gimli's brow knotted, "Where is Aragorn?"

A moment of silence passed before they all looked about.

"Aragorn!" Legolas yelled.

Nothing.

This time, the Dwarf tried.

"Aragorn?"

A grotesque chuckle chilled their bones. Legolas located the Orc first, but it was Gimli who pressed a weapon against the dying thing's throat.

"Tell me what happened," he grunted, "and I will ease your passing."

"He's…" the Orc threw a coughing fit; blood ran from its lips, "dead. He took a little tumble off the cliff."

Legolas glared at it dispassionately, before grabbing the front of its armor and forcing it to look him in the eye.

"You lie," he hissed between clenched teeth.

Trinity's mind buzzed, partially for the potential death of their companion, and partially because she had never seen the Elf this assertive. This angry. A part of her, the dark part, became almost painfully excited and she could see his body melding with hers. In what was left of her mind, she scolded herself. Now, above all times, was not the time to be thinking about sex.

The Orc's laughter ceased, the dark eyes went blank, and his tight fist unfurled, revealing the silver jewel inside it. She had seen this before, around Aragorn's neck. Legolas' eyes met hers briefly before he ran to the edge of the cliff, where Théoden already stood. Exchanging a look, Gimli and Trinity followed.

"Get the wounded on horses," Théoden ordered a soldier, "The wolves or Isengard will return. Leave the dead."

Legolas look at him then, his eyes hinted pain and anger. Trinity's hand touched his shoulder. The King left then, but Gimli and Legolas stayed side by side, staring into the waters below.

"Come," she whispered in the Elf's ear, lightly tugging on his tunic.

At first, he did not respond, and fingered the Evenstar between his long fingers.

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They reached Helm's Deep without anymore trouble. The King and his niece conversed for a while, and Trinity found herself clinging to Legolas' back on the horse. Not for her sake, but his. She feared what would happen should she let go, that he would fall into the same abyss she had so many years ago. Almighty knew, she still was not out of it yet.

Gimli's stout form stood before Éowyn, his head bowed.

"My Lady."

"Lord Aragorn, where is he?" she inquired.

The Dwarf choked back tears, "He fell."

The look on her face could have injured even the happiest of souls, and she turned that gaze on her uncle, an accusing undertone beneath it. Destiny and Dezaria pushed through the crowed towards them, eyes wide, completely oblivious to what had taken place. Trinity's arms tightened around Legolas momentarily, then relaxed.

"I'm alright," he whispered, but his voice lacked conviction.

She wanted to say something reassuring, but could not find her voice. Instead, she dismounted, leaving him to grieve alone, and went off with her kin.

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"I'm sorry about your friend," Dezaria said, unable to take the silence from her nanny any longer.

When they had first began to walk together, Trinity had told them, and then fell silent. She listened with the occasional nod to Destiny's theories, but her eyes were far off. Presently, they rested on Dezaria, an odd emotion mixed in them. Or perhaps it was just odd because the teenaged girl had never seen much emotion in them.

"He was a good man," she murmured.

"Destiny! Dezzy!" a southern accent rose from the rest of the crowd, and a brown haired woman pushed her way through.

Chocolate eyes shined with tears, "Oh! Thank God! I didn't think I'd ever see you guys again!"

The fact that Faith had not addressed Trinity was not so surprising. Their relationship was rocky, even on the best days. It was then that she took her leave, ignoring Faith's half-assed hug as she turned to join the remaining Fellowship. Let that Southern bitch do as she wished, but Trinity would not take any more verbal abuse from her. And she knew if she stayed, she would never hear the end of it. She was a junkie, a heroin addict, the dregs of human society. As if she had never heard those words before.

Still, Legolas seemed lost, wounded as he settled himself near the entrance to the keep. She stayed with him, watching him twirl that jewel between his fingers like a mental patient. A faint anger rose within her, for she could not seem to muster the appropriate response. Part of her wanted to strike him and part of her wanted to help him, but she did not know how. Not with an Elf.

_**Comfort him. **_

_How? _

_**Touch him. His wrist, he likes that. **_

Hesitantly, she did as Evalgine asked, for the first time since the voice had resurfaced. He looked to her in honest surprise, not expecting this almost intimate act, and forced a smile. Something within him stirred at her kindness, and he almost did not hear the whispered rumors pass. His eyes changed for sorrowful to almost excited, though the rest of his features did not move. Having spent so much time with him lately, Trinity could accurately read these subtle changes, and this one did not escape her as it would have to a stranger.

"What is it?" she asked, her hand tightening.

His own hand moved over hers, squeezing it lightly.

"Aragorn."

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"A great host, you say?"

"All Isengard is emptied."

"How many?"

"Ten thousand strong at least."

The interrogation of Aragorn halted for a moment, as King Théoden drew a ragged breath.

"Ten thousand?" his voice was tired, and frightened, and amazed all at once.

Aragorn nodded, "It is an army bred for a single purpose: to destroy the world of Men. They will be here by nightfall."

Trinity felt the adrenaline spread throughout her veins, slowly, like heroin form the syringes. Gimli stirred at her side, and she knew he felt the same effect. If Legolas felt anything near what they did, he did not let it show. The King turned his back to them, and walked away with purpose behind each footstep.

"Let them come!"

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They wandered through the city, a procession of regality, King Théoden in the lead. Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, and Trinity trailed behind them. The King led them out to a ledge, pointing as he spoke.

"We will cover the causeway and the gate from above. No army has ever breached the Deeping Wall or set foot inside the Hornburg!"

"This is no rabble of mindless Orcs," Gimli arguing, leaning on his ax like a walking stick, "These are Uruk-hai. Their armor is thick and their shields broad."

For what seemed like the first time, the King addressed him.

"I have fought many wars, Master Dwarf. I know how to defend my own keep."

They kept walking; still, Théoden told them information they already knew.

"They will break upon this fortress like water on rock," he said, "Saruman's hordes will pillage and burn. We've seen it before. Crops can be resown, homes rebuilt. Within these walls, we will outlast them."

"They do not come to destroy Rohan's crops or villages," Aragorn cried out suddenly, unable to take the man's narrowed vision, "They come to destroy its people down to the last child."

_They dragged me out by my ankles. _

Trinity's fists clenched.

Théoden grabbed hold of Aragorn's tunic, forcing the man closer to him.

"What would you have me do?" he hissed, "Look at my men. Their courage hangs by a thread."

Aragorn looked at him evenly.

The King pressed on: "If this is to be our end, then I would have them make such an end as to be worthy of remembrance."

_Orthodoxy is unconsciousness._

He turned away suddenly.

But Aragorn would not let it be.

"Send out riders, my lord. You must call for aid."

Théoden turned back, a near murderous look on his face.

"And who will come?" he said lowly, "Elves? Dwarves? We are not so luck in our friends as you. The old alliances are dead."

"Gondor will answer."

_Crying is for the weak._

"Gondor!?" the King spat, "Where was Gondor when the Westfold fell!? Where was Gondor when our enemies closed in around us!? Where was Gon – ?"

He stopped rambling, closing his eyes with tight annoyance.

"No, my Lord Aragorn," he said upon regaining his composure, "we are alone."

And with that, he left them.

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"They're puttin' us in the goddam caves!" Faith barked, still unable to believe that she of all people was going to be placed in a dirty area.

Trinity put her fingers to her temples, willing for her to shut her big mouth.

"Yes, well, it's the safest place for us to go and – "

"I don't care!" Faith interrupted Destiny's reason with little style or consideration, "I don't wanna go! If _Trinity_ can stay here, how come I can't?

"Because she's the only one of us that can fight," Dezaria pointed out humbly.

"What's some drugged up, crazy bitch gonna do to an entire army, huh?"

_God, you're lucky that judge knew you were batty, or else you'd be six feet under and you'd be worm food._

Trinity's hands twisted into the cloth of Faith's simple dress suddenly, and shoved her against the stone wall behind her. Brown eyes widened.

"Get your _fucking_ hands off me!"

Her pretty face moved close to Faith's almost entirely false one, "Get. Into. The. Caves. Now."

Each word was its own sentence, threatening. Dezaria's eyes widened and Destiny touched Trinity's shoulder, but she shrugged it off with an aggressive nature.

Faith would not give in: "Go to hell!"

In a moment, Trinity's lips were at her ear.

"I've been there. And back. Now get into the caves, or I _will_ force you and you _will_ regret it, you idiotic cunt."

When at last Trinity released her, Faith obeyed, and followed the crowd away, carrying what little pride she still had left on her shoulders. Emerald eyes watched the other two, inspecting them. Dezaria stared back, and when her nanny reached out to hug her, she jumped back. For the first time in her young life, she was completely afraid of Trinity. Her face crumbling, she ran after Faith, leaving a horrified Destiny and an ashamed Trinity in her wake. Destiny gripped her friend's arm tightly.

"What are you thinking?" she hissed, displaying a rare antagonistic nature, "This is not the time to get angry, you _know_ what happens! Are you insane?"

"Yes," Trinity whispered, eyes shining with unshed tears, "I need my medication, and I don't have it."

A pause followed, before she drew a shaky breath.

"Evalgine's back, and I cannot fight her anymore. This is _my_ body. _Mine_!"

Destiny looked at her with shocked eyes, and they traveled over her shoulder for a moment.

Trinity looked back to see Legolas staring at them with a slightly horrified expression. He gripped her upper arm, dragging her away from the crowd, away from the scene she and her kin had created. Upon reached a more secluded area, he pinned her to the stone, eyes searching hers for at least a hint of humanity. Fury was the only thing he saw.

"You stole this body," he hissed at last.

Her saw set, "It was a gift."

Their words were whispers, hisses, but Trinity thought that they could have been heard even to the deafest ears.

His lips touched her ear, "I don't believe you."

Slowly, she inhaled, nostrils flaring.

"Fine, then believe this, you left her bleeding to death on a battlefield. I did her a _favor_! It is because of _me_ that this body is breathing still."

Her poison words spread through his veins. His hands trembled. He wanted to hit her, beat her, kiss her. He wanted his lips on her throat, her breasts, his hands on her thighs and backside, her body in his bed. He wanted her gone, and Evalgine restored. He wanted both of them. He wanted – his mind spun, not knowing what he wanted anymore.

"Give me Evalgine; let her come back to me."

_**You see! I told you! He wants me still! He loves me!**_

"Nadorhuan!" she spat, answering the both of them with one curse.

Her hands shoved him away, violently, and she disappeared into the crowd.

OoOoOoOoOo

_**Go back! **_

Trinity found an empty room within the keep and slammed the door viciously behind her. She dropped to her hands and knees like a prisoner, one who had a gun pointed to the back of their skull, the barrel bruising as it rubbed against the scalp, held by an unsteady hand and an even more unsteady foe. Evalgine beat against the edge of her mind, like a prisoner on metal bars, the noise was grating. Her temples pounded.

_Help me, Boromir. _

_**Stop it, Trinitas! **_

_help me help me_

_**I said go back!**_

_helpmehelpmehelpme_

_**Go back to Legolas!**_

Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, supposedly seeing the sky through it, still locked in that defeated position.

"Help me," she whimpered into the empty space.

_Never again will you be capable of ordinary human feeling. _

"Help me," she said, a little louder than a whisper.

_What happens to you here is forever._

In her desperation, she reached for one of the many blades hidden within her clothing. She rested the cool metal against her wrist.

_**What are you doing? **_

_Everything will be dead inside you._

Gently, she pressed down, bringing forth a little blood, just a little.

_**Stop that! **_

Not enough to kill her, but enough to feel, to prove that she was not dead.

_Power is in tearing minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of one's own choosing. _

And this was the way Aragorn found her.


	15. The Battle Of Helm's Deep

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

OoOoOoOoOo

_Her hands moved to either side of his skull, her legs on either side of his body. She lifted the weight of his head and bashed it against the floor over and over again, until the blood did not just run. It gushed. Suddenly, she stopped, hands attached to either side of his flatten skull. The position strangely sexual, in some manner, as if they had just made love. Indeed, any passerby would assume that if it were not for the crimson wetness staining her skin and clothing. Delicately, she blinked, looking down at the lifeless corpse with wide eyes. _

_She watched him._

_For the first time in many years, he did not watch her. _

OoOoOoOoOo

The ranger was not sure what to do at first, staring at this strong woman crumpled on the floor. The knife against her wrist, the crimson blood beneath it, staining the silver. Anything he said could cause it to press harder, could cause her to die. She appeared not to have heard him enter, and he stood frozen to the spot. Only one opportunity showed to save her, and he would not ruin it by acting rashly.

She moved to cut again, and he dropped to his knees beside her. Quickly, he snatched the blade from her hand and threw it across the room. When he turned his blue eyes back to her, he could see little revealed in the gaze. No pain, no anger, no sadness. Just emptiness.

And then, the emerald irises were covered by a smooth lid, her body dropped into his.

She was unconscious.

Aragorn's mind whirled. So this had been another fit, but so unlike the other. From what he had been told, she never tried to injure _herself_, only others when enraged. Carefully, he scooped her into his arms, placing her on the empty bed. His hands moved to the injured wrist and he smoothed the blood away to inspect the wound. Nothing. His brow creased and he pushed up the sleeve, preparing to see the injury she had sustained from the day of Boromir's death. Again, there was nothing. Amazement filled him, as he connected this to the fact that she had never once complained. He thought that to be part of her nature, but saw now that she was gifted in some way.

His gaze moved to her sleeping face, watching the slant of the eyes, the parting of the lips, as if that would give him an answer to the questions brewing in his mind.

The door creaked, and Legolas stepped in with a furious expression on his features.

It melted into one of alarm, "Is she alright?"

Without waiting for an answer, he dropped to his knees beside Aragorn, reaching to check her pulse. His concern was not precisely for Trinity, but the entity within her. If this body died, he feared the possibility of losing Evalgine's soul to the afterlife.

"What happened?" he breathed.

Aragorn did not meet his eye, "She tried to kill herself."

That cerulean gaze measured the body until he saw the bit of crimson smudged on her wrist. He grabbed it and turned, expecting to see the wound, but saw only soft flesh. His lips parted in confusion.

"She heals," Aragorn said by means of explanation, though he himself did not understand, "The wound she sustained when attempting to save Boromir is gone."

"Completely?"

Again, the ranger pushed up her sleeve, showing Legolas the unharmed flesh.

"Completely," he answered.

Legolas frowned slightly, "Théoden has requested your assistance."

Aragorn studied him for a moment, considering the fact that perhaps he only wanted a moment alone with this beauty. But he was pure, an Elf, and did not possess the same types of evil a man's mind would. He nodded, as Legolas assured him that he would take care of her, and the ranger took his leave.

The Elf watched her sleep for a long while, eyes moving from the stunning face, to the cloth chocker around her throat, to the silver chain tangled in the fabric of her tunic. A wave of nausea passed over him, a bit of anger followed, as he thought about Trinity allowing another to handle his lover's body. He tried not to see Haldir's lips on hers, Boromir's lips on hers as he reached down to touch her shoulders.

"_Evalgine…_"

OoOoOoOoOo

Her mind had pushed its way back to the foreground, successfully beating Evalgine's. She had always been the stronger of the two. She could not connect the pleasure in her mind with any force, but it built and grew, until Trinity felt as though nothing could stop her ecstasy. And then, reality set in.

The feel of Legolas' tongue in her mouth, the hand shoved crudely down the front of her leggings made her stomach churn.

Her hands traveled over his chest before she shoved him away, fiercely, and scrambled to her feet.

"Son of a whore," she growled, stance suggesting that she was ready to beat him senseless, her voice a little breathless from whatever had transpired between him and Evalgine.

Legolas looked at her in slight confusion, mixed with lust, "Evalgine?"

She looked at him in angry disbelief.

"Evalgine!? _Fuck_! What does she think she's doing, whoring herself out like this?"

In his mind, he could still see Trinity with Haldir, and Boromir. Her full lips taking theirs, letting their hands roam that magnificent form.

"You've given that body to two who are undeserving, yet _she_ is the whore?"

Her saw set in fury, and she turned her back on him. With extra force, she slammed the door behind her, causing it to crack slightly.

OoOoOoOoOo

Trinity found herself alone again. Well, alone as she could have been then, with Evalgine still buzzing in her mind, irritating as a gnat.

_**Gnat!? I created you! **_

_Out of selfishness and self-pity. _

Evalgine could not argue that, but she pressed on.

_**Give me back my body. **_

Try as she might to keep her face impassive, Trinity found her teeth clenching so hard that her jaw ached.

_You disgusting pig! You promised me – _

_**Enough! I will not be terrorized by a being of my own imagination! You will return what is rightfully mine. **_

A grim smile passed over her momentarily as she drew the remaining knife from its sheath.

_**What are you doing? **_

Carefully, she aligned the sharp tip with her navel.

_If you are going to run this body, you must be able to cope with pain. _

_**Sto – **_

Just as her arms swung down, Trinity relinquished control to Evalgine. She gasped, too shocked and fearful to scream, as the blade impaled her. The flesh gave in, forming around the metal with ease. Without pride or shame, she sank to her knees, dissolving into heavy sobs.

_Now pull it out. _

"I ca- I ca- I cannot!" she huffed through the waves of torment.

_Answer in your mind, Ebal. _

"I do not know how!"

_The pain will only grow worse. You must remove it, so the body can heal. If you do not, then the bleeding will become heavier, and your senses faint, until at last you fall into darkness. _

With shaking hands, Evalgine gripped the hilt and tugged. She cried out and released it, unable to continue.

"It hurts!"

_Of course it does, Ebal. Do you think my existence was like yours? That I was given every opportunity? You created me to deal with your pain, and I carried that burden without complaint – _

Evalgine's vision blurred.

"Trinitas!"

_I'm not finished yet! You will sit, and you will listen, just as I kept my ears open to your annoying cries. This is what the world is like, this unbearable pain, and everyday you will be forced to endure this torture. Can you tell me – in all honesty – that you will be able to live through this? _

Tears streamed down her cheeks, hot, burning.

She drew a sharp, weak breath, "No."

_No what?_

Her eyelids fluttered.

"I cannot…survive."

And then, Trinity took control. The pain came swiftly, but she kept her face expressionless and drew the knife from her stomach with little difficulty. Glancing down, she watched the wound heal itself in seconds. New tissue, new skin and muscle replaced the old, inching across the hole. She stood slowly, blood rolling down her front.

_**How can you stand it? **_

_It is what I do._

A moment of silence passed between them.

_**You hurt me. **_

_I'm sorry, Ebal, but it was the only way you could understand. _

She did not respond.

OoOoOoOoOo

Hours later, Théoden's men provided the pieced together army with weapons. As expected, the remaining Fellowship was there, helping in whatever way possible. Aragorn measured the group, his voice rose above the clanging of metal.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys," the ranger muttered darkly, "these are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli pointed out, glancing around.

"Or too few."

Trinity closed her eyes tightly, Legolas' voice alone made her want to spill blood.

"Look at them;" the Elf continued with an accusing tone, "They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."

The entire room went silent, as Aragorn turned his head sharply in his direction. Again, Legolas went on. Fueled, she knew, by his own sexual frustration, by the fact that she would not let Evalgine stay with him. In this war, in this world, she would fall. And the events leading up to Trinity's hold on this body would be repeated. Now that she understood this, it would be much easier to continue the journey.

_Evalgine? _

Nothing, the girl must have been angered by Trinity's earlier act.

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn proclaimed suddenly, causing Trinity to blink in surprise.

She had not been listening to their conversation.

He turned and left, Legolas moved to follow him, but Gimli grabbed his wrist.

"Let 'em go, lad," the Dwarf said, patting his forearm encouragingly, "Let 'em be."

Legolas' eyes moved to hers, but she only glared.

He took his leave, allowing Gimli and Trinity some time alone. Something that rarely happened.

His heady voice sounded, "Not very happy with 'em, are you?"

"Not thrilled," she replied with a little smile, "But I'll live."

"I know that, lassie, I know," Gimli grunted, recalling how hard she could fight, how much pain she could endure before she gave in.

Her eyes scanned the people around them momentarily, "I suppose we should suit ourselves, then."

OoOoOoOoOo

They set off together, searching for Aragorn, and found him in a spare room, dressing himself with purpose. His movements, quick, steady, and practiced, the sign of a true warrior. Silently, Gimli and Trinity dressed themselves as well. Chain mail and leather were the two main attributes of Men's armor, simple, yet effective. As the ranger turned to say something, Legolas appeared, adorned in the same armor as the others. He looked properly ashamed.

"We have trusted you this far," the Elf said softly, "You have not led us astray. Forgive me. I was wrong to despair."

_**You see? He is not so horrible. **_

_He does not give a shit about me. Only you. I am expendable. In his way. _

Aragorn accepted the apology and they exchanged a brotherly gesture. A touch of the shoulder, and the gentle shake that she had seen so often between Faith's husband and his friends.

They moved their gaze to Gimli, who struggled to keep the mail armor to his liking.

"We had time, I get this adjusted," he grunted before letting it loose.

It clamored to the ground noisily.

Aragorn and Legolas raised their eyebrows, and Trinity laughed.

"It's a little tight across the chest."

A strange sound reached their ears, above the clamor of the city.

"That is no Orc horn," Legolas said before rushing out.

Trinity and Aragorn followed, leaving an overwhelmed Gimli behind in that dress of a shirt. They rushed down the steps, to the gates, where an armored Haldir and Scarlette stood side by side. Her eyes went wide. The sight in itself was rather disturbing, she thought, considering how pristine the Elves were and how openly immoral the middle aged Latina acted. Scarlette had no idea how to fight and did not carry even a knife on her at any time. How could she participate in a war?

Haldir continued with what she guessed to be a great speech: "We come to honor that allegiance."

Aragorn ran to him, embracing him as a brother would and Legolas did the same. Trinity repeated the act with Scarlette, convincing herself that she would lead her friend to the caves at a later time.

"We are proud to fight alongside Men once more."

OoOoOoOoOo

Trinity ran, her hand wrapped tightly around Scarlette's wrist.

"Qué voy a hacer?"

"You are going to the caves," she explained, maneuvering through the dark city with ease, "Faith, Destiny, and Dezaria are already there."

Scarlette licked her lips, "What about you?"

"I have to fight."

"Qué? _Why_?"

She stared into her friend's sky blue irises, "I made a promise to Frodo, and I failed. I made a promise to Aragorn, and I must keep it."

"You could die!"

"I highly doubt that is going to happen."

"You dunno what's gonna happen."

They reached the entrance. And as they slowed to a stop, Trinity's mind focused on the day she killed that innocent man. The day she pulled the trigger, the barrel resting against his temple, the tears cascading down dirty cheeks, Scarlette screaming at her to let him go, it was all too much then. Trinity drew her into a tight hug. Reluctantly, Scarlette returned the embrace with shaking hands.

As if in a sigh, Trinity whispered to her: "Faith is angry at me again, so is Destiny, and Dezaria is terrified. If I do not come back – "

"No," Scarlette's voice was hoarse, "No me diga."

"If I do not come back, you must give this to Dezaria."

Trinity pulled a faded note from her boot and placed it in Scarlette's hand, folding the tanned fingers around it firmly.

"What's this?"

"Margaret's suicide note."

OoOoOoOoOo

Night fell, and the army was in place. Lining the great walls of Helm's Deep, their armor glinted in the moon light. Silence surrounded them, none talked, and the only noise was the wind. Gimli, Legolas, and Trinity stood in a row, melding the various Elves sent from Rivendell. The steady sound of marching feet rose into the air. Gimli tried to jump and gain a moment of vision, as the protective wall was too high for him to see over.

"You could have picked a better spot," he scoffed.

Aragorn appeared behind them.

"Well, lad," Gilmi said, looking up at him, "whatever luck you live by, let's hope it lasts the night."

Lightening flashed, illuminating the onslaught ahead. Thunder followed.

"Your friends are with you, Aragorn," Legolas breathed.

"Let's hope they last the night."

Aragorn left, walking amongst the soldiers. Trinity smiled and patted the Dwarf's helmet with her free hand. In the other, she held a wooden bow. He looked up with tired brown eyes and smiled back, little lines creased around the sockets.

"Are you ready for this, Gimli?"

"This is what I do, lassie!"

She laughed a comfortable chuckle, which halted when she felt Legolas' hand on her arm. Giving him a sidelong glance, she briefly studied the contours of his face. The chiseled jaw was not set in anger, and cerulean eyes held a dim apology.

The rain fell.

In the distance, one of the creatures roared.

Aragorn barked orders in Elvish.

The Uruk-hai stopped marching, and stood across from the keep, she could hear them snarling with disdain.

Again, Gimli jumped up and down, trying to see over the ledge.

"What's happening out there?"

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas replied with a smile, "Or would you like me to find you a box?"

The Dwarf laughed heartily.

The foul creatures began to pound their weapons against the ground, creating that rhythmic pattern once again. To her right, she heard the sound of a single sword being drawn from its sheath. Trinity and Legolas drew their bows, but the order to fire was not given.

An arrow flew from her left and hit an Uruk in the throat. It fell face first to the ground and the others roared and charged forward.

Aragorn screamed out the consent to fire, and they did, taking down the first row of Uruks with troublesome ease.

"Did they hit anything?" Gimli asked.

Trinity fired another arrow, striking one in the neck, "They hit plenty."

Arrows whizzed past her, hitting Uruk after Uruk, despite the poor conditions.

"Send them to me," Gimli cried, "Come one!"

The Elf beside her fell forward, over the stone ledge, and into the dirt below. Uruk-hai beat his corpse into the ground. Trinity saw something out of the corner of her eye.

"Ladders!"

"Good!" Gimli shouted over the sound of the battle.

Hand to hand combat began. Mercilessly, Trinity cut down as many of the enemy as possible, her knives dripped tainted blood. Gimli arched his ax into one Uruk's abdomen.

"Legolas!" he yelled, "Two already!"

He held up two stubby fingers to further prove his point.

"I'm on seventeen!"

Trinity jabbed one through its helm, "Ha! Sixteen!"

The Dwarf shook his head, "I'll have no woman or pointy-ear outscoring me!"

He then proceeded to castrate an unlucky Uruk-hai, who had just climbed the ladder to its doom. Legolas shot down two more with quick precision, his bow steady in firm hands.

"Nineteen!"

Trinity ran up, hands outstretched, and pushed one ladder backwards. It crushed the Uruks noisily, like insects.

_Scream. Shake. Do something!_

"I think that counts as five!" she called, looking over the ledge.

"You cheat! I can't reach them up there!"

Trinity lifted Gimli onto the wall, giving him further access to the Uruks.

"There! Happy?"

From the sound of his counting, she guessed so.

"Causeway," Aragorn shouted suddenly.

Legolas and Trinity drew their bows again, firing to the left this time, at the creatures marching to one of the keeps' gateways. Only a few fell. She moved her battle to the right, allowing the Elves to take care of the loathsome Uruk-hai. Instead, she stood next to Aragorn and her brow creased as she caught the sight of a torch.

"Aragorn!" she screamed, rushing to draw her bow in time.

He saw the Uruk, and yelled to Legolas, who immediately shot it. But it refused to die. Trinity fired at it as well, and with three arrows protruding from its body, the Uruk lunged itself forward. The ground underneath her gave out, and she flew to the ground with frightening speed.

_**Trinitas!**_

Everything went dark.

OoOoOoOoOo

Legolas heard the noise of crumbling stone, and snapped his head to the sight just as Trinity's body fell, bits of the wall followed. He fought harder, knives twirling, blood flowing, all the while thinking that he would lose Evalgine again. He thought of a decent plan. Grabbing a shield from a lifeless corpse, he pushed it toward the steps ahead of him, jumping on as it began to slide down. Those limber hands shot arrows from the bow all the way down.

Upon reaching the ground, he was rewarded with more Uruks, and killed them one by one, his eyes on Trinity's unconscious form, which rested only feet from where he stood. Desperately, he tried to reach her, until at last he was by her side. He gripped her upper arm, and she blinked to life, gazing up at him in confusion. Those green eyes so wide, so innocent.

"On your feet, meleth nin," he whispered in encouragement.

Comprehension crashed into her gaze, and she rose to her feet, stabbing an Uruk to their left with one graceful motion. He smiled at her in thanks and continued the battle.

OoOoOoOoOo

"Back to the keep!" Aragorn hollered over the clanging of swords.

Trinity froze and looked over at Gimli, who was swinging his ax mightily, growling as it made contact again and again with leathery flesh. But he did not fall back. An exchanged glance with Legolas told him her plan, and they both rushed forward, hooking one arm around the Dwarf's, and pulled him back. He kicked and struggled as they lead him to the keep.

"What are you doing? What are you stopping for?"

They ignored him, dragging his small (yet heavy) body to safety. He and Aragorn rushed to the keep, leaving Legolas and Trinity alone. Together, they fought, she hacking and slashing, and him firing his bow rapidly.

"Still keeping count, Legolas?" she shouted.

"Are _you_?"

"Damn straight! I'll have no Dwarf beat me!"

His eyes moved over the ledge and widened.

"Rope! Get me some rope!"

Trinity did not question him, but snatched the closest thing she could find and tossed it. With a flick of the wrist, he caught it, unraveling it with quick precision, and threw it below.

"Aragorn!"

She rushed forward, assisting him as he pulled up the ranger and dwarf.

"Retreat! The castle is breached!"

The others left, and only Trinity remained, still cutting down everything that stood in her path. Her actions were purely that of need, desire, the will to see these horrid creatures whither and die. Legolas' hand found her wrist, and he led her away, gently but firmly, into the throne room, where they struggled to protect the doors.

_YOU DO NOT. BACK. DOWN. EVER!_

"The fortress is taken," Théoden yelled in exasperation, glaring at the frantic attempt, "It is over."

Aragorn whirled on him, "You said this fortress would never fall while your men defend it. They still defend it. They have died defending it!"

Legolas and Trinity hoisted a bench off the floor and stacked it atop the others, blocking the entrance.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?"

The King did not answer.

Legolas knocked over a table and carried it to the blockade, he shoved it against the pile, and paused as he felt Trinity's hand touch his shoulder.

"Is there no other way?"

"There is one passage," his henchman said, "It leads into the mountains. But they will not get far. The Uruk-hai are too many."

_Dry those tears, baby. _

Trinity hissed in irritation, "You must try! My kin is in there, and I will _not_ lose them now, not when I've just found them."

Now it was Legolas' turn to offer comfort as his hand rested against her shoulder.

"Tell the women and children to make for the mountain pass," Aragorn instructed the man, "and barricade the entrance!"

_We cannot hold them back!_

Théoden stared at him with tormented eyes.

_Almighty, Dove, what have I done?_

"So much death."

They froze and watched him.

"What can Men do against such reckless hate?"

Aragorn had no answer to this.

"Ride out with me," the ranger said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Ride out and meet them."

_Do not be afraid, sweet one; this will only hurt for a moment._

Trinity's heart faltered.

"For death and glory," the King continued.

"For Rohan. For your people."

Gimli stared out one of the few windows, "The sun is rising."

Trinity moved her eyes to the light.

_Gandalf. _

"Yes," Théoden said with a glint in his eye, "Yes. The horn of Helm Hammerhand shall sound in the Deep one last time."

Gimli's ax rose in anticipation, "Yes!"

The men moved away from the door.

Legolas and Trinity found the horses and led them into the room. The remaining company mounted them and the door crashed open, revealing the Uruks behind it. For the first time, Trinity held control over her own horse, and stampeded through the creatures with little care for her own safety. Her knives cut them, sliced through them easily, and the sound of the horn surrounded her, even when they rode into almost certain demise.

And then, Gandalf's men came. Émoer came.

OoOoOoOoOo

What was left of the Uruk-hai army fled to the woods, and they did not follow. Trinity watched and listened as the trees began to moved, and the screams of agony echoed in her ears. She envisioned their limbs broken, bodies crushed as the forest swallowed tem. Her eyes moved to Legolas, who only stared in horror at the site ahead.

And she smiled discreetly.

OoOoOoOoOo

Later, she wandered through the maze of corpses, looking for the Elf and Dwarf to see if she had won their bizarre game. When she finally found them, Legolas was standing in a rather arrogant stance, running his thin hands over the bow.

"Final count," he said slowly, "forty-two."

Gimli sat on a fallen Uruk's corpse, pipe lit, as always.

"Forty-two?" he grunted, "That's not bad for a pointy-eared Evlish princeling."

Trinity snickered; Legolas glared at them both.

"I myself am sitting pretty at _forty-three_."

Legolas drew his bow and shot an arrow between Gimli's legs, hitting the Uruk's armor.

"Forty-three," he said with a smug smile."

"He was already dead."

"He was twitching."

"He was twitching because he's got my ax embedded in his nervous system!"

He jiggled the weapon to demonstrate his point, sure enough, the lifeless limbs jerked.

"You've lost, Elf, admit it!"

Trinity crossed her arms, strolling forward.

"Actually, you've both lost."

They stared.

A smile broke across her lovely features, "Fifty-six!"

She clapped her hands together in playful glee.

"Ha! I win! You are _both_ pansies!"

Still, they stared.

"You cheated!" Gimli interjected suddenly.

Her grin never faltered, "I most certainly did _not_!"

_**Yes, you did. You used your abilities. And that, dear, is cheating.**_

The grin faded, replaced by a look of slight anger, "Shut up! I didn't have a choice!"

_**Answer in your mind Trinitas. **_

Evalgine's voice was filled with bitterness and mocking, using the exact phrase she had used earlier. Trinity's face dissolved into a scowl.

Legolas and Gimli exchanged a glance. The Dwarf's was filled with complete wonder, but the Elf's knew. There was no doubt in his mind that Evalgine was still fighting, though how hard, he did not know.

_**Why are you so threatened by me? **_

_Because you want me to disappear, you want to assume your identity as his lover.. Even after he left you and you gave your word to me! You said – you promised that I could keep this body! I have a home, and a family, and friends that care about me. I have Dezaria to look after. What do you have, Ebal? _

They began to work their way back to the keep, Legolas first, then Trinity, and Gimli took up the rear. She watched the soldiers pile the carcasses, preparing to burn them later on.

_**You've had a life more than once, had a lover more than once. Remember what happened last time? **_

Her hands made tight fists.

_Stop it. _

_**He slit your throat. **_

Subconsciously, her fingers touched the cloth around her neck.

_**He thought you were sinful, unclean. **_

_Pray for redemption, Dove. _

_I said stop. _

_**You were unfaithful. **_

Legolas heard Trinity's breath increase, and turned to look at her. He noted with some concern, and hope that perhaps Evalgine was pressing through again.

_**You slept with another when he went to war. **_

_Please. _

_**If anyone is the whore here, it is you. **_

She started to shake.

_**And then you went and meddled in Margaret's marriage. **_

Trinity did not feel Legolas until he stood beside her, hand touching her arm uncertainly. Her head turned to the side involuntarily; Evalgine was slowly but surely breaking through the mental barriers. The moment in which Trinity had tried to teach the girl a lesson failed severely as she felt her mind start to give way.

_Why do you want him so much? _

_**Why do you? **_

_I … _

She lost control.


	16. Understanding and Dwarfed Seduction

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

**A NOTE TO MY READERS/REVIEWERS:**** Thank you so much for all your support. I cannot thank you enough for the kind words and useful critique I've received. Oh, and don't be afraid to offer suggestions on how I might better this tale. I do use reader's ideas in my stories occasionally. **

**P.S. this is in response to a certain reviewer who is confused by the voices. I assume, of course, that you mean the italicized wording. For now, they're supposed to be confusing, but (fear not!) they will be explained….eventually. **

* * *

Legolas saw the change at once. The emotions crashed into those magnificent eyes with frightening speed as Trinity changed back into his Evalgine. Fear echoed off her, she was weaker than the other and could not stand the weight of the armor after so many months of captivity. Being a prisoner inside her own mind, she did not understand the strength of this body, and so it seemed almost foreign to her, despite the fact that it was she who had been born into it. His arms wrapped around her gently, steadying her, and she looked to him with thankful eyes.

A grin broke out over that normally somber face and he knew that the transformation was done. At that moment, he wanted to whisper her name, but could not risk it, for Gimli was watching him steadily.

"She alright?" he grunted, worry etched deep into his face.

Evalgine turned her head toward the Dwarf, lessening the smile into the type of expression she thought Trinity would share with him. She swallowed, hoping that would help lower her tone of voice, which was a few octaves above her mental creation, and stepped out of her lover's reach.

"I am fine."

Gimli's brown eyes surveyed her with a bit of disbelief, but nodded.

OoOoOoOoOo

Evalgine was overwhelmed. From the many years she had spent in the background, behind Trinitas' many secrets and painful memories, she grew more and more uneasy with owning a body. Though she had had some experience, the majority of control was hard to keep. Always, it seemed, there was some kind of pain. When she had taken power to get to Legolas before, there had been a rather exasperating pain in the back of her skull. And now, as he led her to his room, her temples pounded. She felt so heavy, the mass of the body (though small to any other physical being) weighed her down.

Legolas pressed her against a wall in the empty room. His lips brushed hers, smiling.

"Evalgine."

She gasped as his fingers brushed her thigh. Each touch was so new to her, as though it had never happened before. But it had – just once – with him, so many years ago. His mouth met hers, tongue slipping between her open lips. Evalgine wanted to press against him, to show him she wanted more than mere foreplay, but was simply too shy to ask for it. He read her movements, timid as they were, and moved them to the bed. Softly, tenderly, he kissed her neck through the cloth. Her hands gripped at the sheets until her knuckles turned white; her back arched. His hand touched the spot just above her pants line and moved up, between the breasts, fingers curling around the choker.

_GET OUT! _

He saw her flinch and removed his hand at once, watching her in alarm, "Man sa?"

Meekly, she pushed at his chest, and he rolled off her, lying at her side instead.

She propped herself on her elbows with a frustrated sigh, "Trinitas. Trinity."

He too sighed at this, eyes fastened on the curve of her hip.

"Why can she not leave us be?"

Slowly, his eyes met hers, "This is your body."

Evalgine tilted her head to the side, eyes clouded.

"No," she whispered thickly, "It is not."

His brow creased.

"What do you mean, meleth nin?"

The tears began to fall, slipping down her cheeks. And in that moment, he thought, she looked so young. How old was this body? Not old enough to have very seasoned in life, yet it seemed to have changed greatly since he last held her in his arms. The hips had widened, the breasts became a little fuller, the face a bit thinner. She thought the opposite of him. The Elf she knew then did not seem so different from the one she saw now. The curve of his jaw, the shape of his body, the scent of his skin and hair were all the same. Only his eyes showed change. Though they were the same brilliant cerulean color, something deep in his gaze seemed tortured.

"When I…died, I surrendered my body to Trinitas – Trinity," she smiled sadly; "I do not know which name she prefers now. At any rate, I felt as though my life had ended the moment you left."

Legolas flinched, recalling the day, the hate he felt towards her father.

"Trinitas offered to take control and I allowed it. It was her who brought this body back from death."

_Stop calling me by that name! _

With another sigh, his arm slipped around her waist, drawing her close, "Manen?"

_Don't you dare, Ebal! _

"Her lover."

_Damn it! Stop! It is not his concern! _

She winced as Trinitas hurt her again, but she was determined not to lose control. It was then that Legolas understood the source of her torment. His eyes darkened.

"She injures you."

"Only when I anger her," she replied, shaking her head.

The look on his face was one of outrage.

Hastily, she tried to explain their sensitive situation: "When Trinitas is in control, and I speak to her, it inflicts pain. Emotional responses make it more intense. Normally, I am quiet, so as to not disturb her. I feel horrible whenever I hurt her."

_Fucking liar. _

She gnawed at her lower lip; his fingers caressed her cheek and pulled the flesh out of the reach of her teeth. His mouth claimed hers, lingering, until at last they were forced to breath.

"When I wanted to speak with you, she would not let me."

His jaw set, "And why is that?"

_Evalgine…_

"She was afraid that I would want my body again," she said, avoiding his gaze.

…_Stop. _

"That I would want _you_ again."

_Please._

Confusion settled into his expression, "Why would she fear that?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but froze. Her eyes widened in terror and she gasped. His reaction was immediate. Desperately, he gripped her hands in his, eyes searching hers.

"Meleth?"

Quickly, her mouth snapped shut and she stared at him in mute revulsion. Trinity had returned. He braced himself for the storm.

"You fucking _wanker_!" she snapped, jumping to her feet.

His stare challenged hers, "That's enough, Trinity."

She flattened herself against the door, fingers curled around handle, her front half facing him and he sat on the edge of the coldly empty bed, arms resting on his knees.

" '_That's enough_,' " she quoted with sharp animosity and a bitter laugh, "Legolas, I don't think you understand the meaning of 'enough.' Evalgine's _dead_! I have no obligation to love you, or give a _shit_ about you in her place! Mope all you want, but I refuse to be involved."

With each word, the soft accent became more and more pronounced.

"Why can you not let us be?" he asked sharply.

He was shocked to see her lip quiver.

"Because this is _my_ life," she murmured before trying to open the door.

Legolas rose quickly, and forced it shut again. His hands were on either side of her head, and his eyes bore into hers the same way Boromir's had that day outside of the Mines. Warily, she watched him, but kept silent. For a long while, they stayed like that.

"I loved her more than anything in this life," he hissed finally, "and you are a fool to believe I would allow _anyone_ to take her again."

Her lips moved, forming words, but no sound came forth.

She swallowed and tried again, fixing him with a piercing glare, "Are you going to hurt me, Legolas?"

He did not respond, prompting her to carry on.

"If you could," she said softly, "if you knew it would not hurt Evalgine, would you shove your knife into my abdomen?"

He tried to avoid her gaze, but everywhere his eyes moved, hers followed.

"Would you slit my throat?"

Slowly, she slipped her hand from the door's handle and drew the small blade from the bracer. She then proceeded to take one of hands in hers and wrap his fingers around the short hilt. Her hands untied the choker around her throat, and he felt her eyes burn into the side of his face as she led his hand to her neck, letting the edge of the sharp weapon rest against the flesh.

For the first time, he saw what was under that cloth. Across the entire length of her throat was a long, barbaric scar, pointed at the edges, as though it had been sewn together. He could not help but feel ashamed at that moment. But that feeling was not her goal.

"Kill me," she said in a hushed voice.

He could not hurt her. They both knew it. Evalgine knew it.

"I cannot," he whispered brokenly.

Amazingly, it was not for the fear of losing Evalgine this time. It was the fear of losing _her_. Of losing _Trinity_.

Her eyes narrowed, "Coward."

She tore the blade from his grasp and raised it to her own throat. The edge lined perfectly with the scar, as though she had do it many times before. Legolas was still so close to her, still in the same position, her scent filled his nostrils.

"I can do it," she said evenly, like this was an everyday conversation. A normal exchanging of information.

She drew a little blood deftly.

Instantly, he grabbed her hand and slammed it against the door, forcing the little blade out to fall out of her grasp. She looked to those hands, his larger one covering hers, hot flesh against her frigid skin. The revelation dawned; he wanted to save her. But, he realized with a little embarrassment, she could heal. To make certain, he examined the wound. With his free hand, he wiped away the blood and saw no injury underneath. Only the ugly scar.

"Goheno nin."

She did not accept his apology, nor did she deny it, but pushed him away. Obediently, Legolas froze where he stumbled and watched her tie the cloth around her throat again. She left the knife where it lay as she exited the room.

OoOoOoOoOo

He sat in the keep, almost alone, for only a few still remained. Though Trinity had vanished for the time being, her kin remained, mixed with a few men and women of Théoden's kingdom. The rest had either left for Edoras, or were busy clearing the corpses from the outside.

"Let me tell you a story, Master Greenleaf."

Legolas looked up, startled by the sound of Destiny's charming tone. Politely, he smiled in response, too courteous to tell her he needed time alone.

"And what would this story be about, my lady?"

Her violet eyes flickered towards her niece, "A girl, her nanny, and her mother."

Unconsciously, he sucked in a breath. Yet all she did was send him a rueful smirk.

"I'll keep it short," she promised with a little laugh.

Her eyes turned nostalgic, and he settled himself for a long tale, despite her reassurance.

"Once upon a time," she said gently, "I had a sister."

Her voice caught and she looked away, tears brimming against the lilac irises. He leaned forward a little, wondering why she would subject herself to this. Telling her woes to an Elf, who was nearly a stranger to her. Destiny wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Once upon a time," she repeated unsteadily, "I had a sister. Her name was Margaret."

She smiled a little, staring at the ground.

"She was Dezaria's mother."

Legolas' eyes found the girl's form, the curling red hair and lightly tanned skin, the little splay of freckles across her nose, those bright gray eyes. Nothing about her seemed to radiate any undertone of depression, or a hint of despair.

"I want you to know that I loved my sister – we all did. Even after what happened, there is still no bitterness in our memory of her."

He waited for her to go on, watching the people and colors around him. Brown and gold swirled in his vision.

"What happened?" he pressed her.

Straight, white teeth gnawed at a plump lower lip. In the distance, Scarlette laughed obnoxiously, slapping her thigh with one hand.

"She was sad. Everyone could see it. It…um…it was my mother's fault. She had a very…strict view of what is beautiful, of what type of physical appearance is beautiful. Margaret is the eldest; I was four years younger than her. But my mother…she didn't love Margaret. It was like…her own daughter was an image of everything she thought to be repulsive. Red-haired, blue-eyed, stout, her vision was bad…"

Faith snorted across the room, the stone echoed the noise.

"My sister wasn't ugly," Destiny whispered sullenly.

He could not respond, for he did not know what to say.

She exhaled slowly, "I tried. I tried my best to keep her happy, keep her smiling. My entire life was dedicated to making her feel worthy, making her feel special, because no matter what she did, my mother would never say more than three words to her."

"Why would a mother to do that to their child?" outrage dressed his tone.

"Margaret wasn't good enough," she answered simply, shrugging and shaking her head simultaneously.

His brow creased, but he did not interrupt again.

"She wasn't…good enough. But I was. So she treated me with love and kindness."

She leaned back in her chair and caught niece's eye, smiling. As soon as the girl turned her back, the reassuring look faded from her young face, melting into one of doubt and memory. He reached out and took her hand in his, surprised at how small and warm it felt. Something within him expected the cool touch, the same touch from Trinity's hands.

"God," she groaned, still not looking at him, "Margaret resented me then. I don't blame her, I still don't. From the moment of her birth, she was my mother's enemy. Do you know what my mother said about her once? To her face?"

Legolas shook his head cautiously, captivated and relieved to have something else to think of. Something other than fate, the Ring, doom, and Trinity.

"She said," Destiny mumbled, "that my _sister_, her _daughter_, 'slithered out of her, like a parasite!' "

He could not respond. Why did she tell him this?

"And I never stopped her. I just…picked up the pieces later on. But…I think our mother's dislike of her made her stronger in some way. At twenty-two, she found herself a husband, made her own family. For the first time in her life, Margaret felt special."

A fond grin passed over her at the memory, and even Legolas found himself a little encouraged by the fact.

"I wish…I wish it could have stayed that way. But…she, um….she would get sad, a lot, and she didn't want to hurt her children. That's why Trinity came into the picture, to take care of the kids when Marge couldn't."

Her jaw set suddenly and she gritted her teeth.

"She ruined _everything_."

His lips parted slightly, "What did she do?"

"All it took was that one kiss," she continued, giving no heed that she had even heard him, "and it all came crashing down. Trinity's mouth on his, and Margaret saw. Apparently, her husband wasn't as happy as he let on."

Legolas felt honest shock, part of him wanted to believe that his lover's creation would never do such a thing. Was she not part of Evalgine still? Had she no conscience?"

"She was so mad. So, so, mad. And she had every right to be, she should've beaten Trinity to death on the spot. But she didn't. Like any good religious woman, she held it inside until at last she could take no more. She wanted to kill Trinity, but her hand slipped…she almost killed Dezaria instead."

Again, he found himself watching the woman's niece. She was laughing, fat tears rolled down her cheeks, while Scarlette made faces. Sucked in her cheeks like a fish, causing Faith to roll her eyes and examine her nails.

Destiny grimaced at the memory, "She tried to redeem herself by shooting Trinity, even as she tried to save her daughter's life. We stopped her, somehow, but she wasn't the same after that."

Armored arms wrapped around her suddenly, pulling her close just as she began to cry, and Legolas' hand left hers. Émoer's eyes met his for a moment before pressing his lips into her golden hair. He hadn't known, the Elf, about their relationship. Neither, it seemed, had her kin. Scarlette whooped and hollered and Faith looked with wide eyes at the couple. Destiny waved her hand loosely in their direction, dismissing them. She gripped at Émoer instead, knuckles white with need.

"Four years ago, she hung herself in her own doorway."

Legolas looked away.

"After that, I took Dezaria in, but I can never take Margaret's place. I'm not her mother, not even close. The only one who could ever come close to fitting that role is Trinity."

"And do you still despise her?"

"No," she whispered, shaking her head from side to side, "No. In the end, it was Margaret's contempt for life that destroyed her. That and her own guilt. And as much as I want to, I can't hate Trinity."

"And why is that?" How was it that someone who had suffered so much through Trinity's actions did not hate her? To an extent, Legolas hated her, for taking Evalgine away. For making him want her too, instead of just his lover. It was all so confusing. So twisted.

"Because I know that if she hadn't cut down Margaret's body, Dezaria would have seen it. She made all the decisions after that. While the rest of us mourned, she helped with the body, planned the funeral, and told the rest of our family the news. If it wasn't for her, we would have never been able to help Dezzy out of her grief and she would have met the same end as her mother. As my sister."

She shied away from Émoer for a moment, clutching the Elf's hand with hers.

"I know that you don't like her very much and that she can be rather…difficult, but she's a wonderful person. She's…what keeps us together. Please, give her a chance."

He nodded, though the agreement was a lie.

He could not love Trinity.

Only Evalgine.

OoOoOoOoOo

"Damn!" Trinity huffed, adjusting her armor hastily.

Only minutes ago, she had escaped from Evalgine's mental prison, and now felt a bit strange. As though everything occurring was a dream. Lightheaded. In fact, she had not realized that she had traveled outside until she heard a gruff noise behind her. She turned quickly; ready to kill.

Gimli chortled and smoke escaped from his mouth and nose, "Somethin' wrong, lassie?"

Her emotions amused him, no doubt because he had never seen her so agitated. She fixed with a steady glare, but his grin only grew.

"Legolas is a wanker."

He grunted in agreement, offering her a seat beside him. Without protest, she sank onto the stone bench, secretly grateful for a friend to distract her. At least, she thought resignedly, Evalgine was silent.

"You seemed alright with him before," the Dwarf said, eyes sparkling mischievously.

"A lapse of judgment," she grimaced, "one of mighty proportions."

He said no more, and instead offered her the pipe. She took it between slim hands, the way she had done in the mine, and raised it to her lips, inhaling. Gimli watched the sun set before them, the skies painted thick with majestic reds and purples.

He heaved a sigh, "I could use some ale righ' about now."

She laughed a little, blowing little smoke rings from her full lips, then nipping at them like an animal. The Dwarf laughed heartily, unused to seeing her so happy, so childlike. Trinity Night was not the type of woman to act this way. The sickness in her heart and mind grew steadily, but it was hardly noticeable to the outsiders now. The memories had all but faded. When his gloved hand reached for the pipe, she pulled it away, teasing. Trying frantically to hold onto that good humor for a little longer.

Despite what one might believe, she adored those moments. Where _she_, not Evalgine, could be vivacious and amusing to others. Where she could hold attention and not feel guilty about it. For the first time, she felt like she belonged. But she knew this feeling would not last. She would not truly be at peace until Evalgine ceased to exist altogether.

Then, maybe, she could finally live her own life.

"Hola."

Scarlette grinned at them, wide and happy, intentionally seductive.

"Mind if I join in?"

Trinity looked to Gimli with raised eyebrows, and he shrugged, using the opportunity to snatch his pipe back. She nodded to her friend, who positioned herself on the ground, somewhat underneath them both. Knowing, of course, that a glance down would allow them a full look at her breasts. Inwardly, Trinity rolled her eyes. Gimli, however, looked down with great frequency.

"Oh," Scarlette cried, turning to face them, "I forgot!"

Her fingers slipped between her breasts and Trinity gave her an odd look, which melted into uncomfortable laughter as her strange friend handed her Margaret's note. She took it by the corner, holding it from her body as if disgusted with it.

"Why do you keep everything down your shirt?"

Scarlette shrugged innocently, "Porque. I know that my tits aren't gonna fall off anytime soon. This way, I'll never lose stuff."

Gimli scrambled from his seat, unable to take the sight any longer. He bowed deeply before taking his leave, cheeks flushed.

"So," Trinity mumbled as soon as he was out of sight, "the Dwarf, huh?"

"You know what they say about midgets," she replied with a naughty grin.

"What do they say?"

"They have huge dicks."

Trinity shuddered, covering her eyes with one hand, "What is _wrong_ with you?"

OoOoOoOoOo

They were ordered back to Edoras early the next morning. What was left of the townsfolk first, Dezaria, Faith, and Scarlette included. Éowyn led them proudly, though a little disappointed that she could not go with her uncle. The remaining Fellowship, King Théoden, Émoer, Destiny, and a soldier had chosen to ride out on their own. Coupled together on six horses, they rode to Isengard, unsure of what waited for them.

Trinity kept her hands a respectable distance away from Aragorn, with whom she shared Brego, the horse. Gimli agreed to ride with Legolas, thanks to their bit of bonding the night before. She glanced over at Destiny. She, it seemed, was not so courteous with Émoer. Her arms locked around him tightly, her head leaned against his shoulder. Trinity raised an eyebrow to her, and she blushed, hiding her face in the man's armor. Had Scarlette been there, she'd have embarrassed Destiny to no end.

Only Théoden and Gandalf rode alone. Trinity's head snapped up suddenly, hearing what she thought to be laughter in the distance. Familiar laughter, she glanced at Legolas to see if he heard it as well. From the glint in his eye, she guessed so. What they reached was completely against any odds they could have suspected. Merry and Pippin sat atop a broken stone wall, large feet swinging like children. Upon seeing them, Pippin raised his mug in toast and Merry removed his pipe, standing, arms outstretched.

"Welcome, my lords and ladies," he announced giddily, "To Isengard!"

"You young rascals!" Gimli shouted in agitation, "A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you feasting and – and smoking!"

Aragorn grinned, as did Trinity and Legolas smirked. Théoden and the others looked a bit taken aback, and perhaps a little amused.

"We are stilling on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts," Pippin smacked through the food in his mouth.

Merry blew smoke in their direction, jokingly.

Gimli's mouth formed a perfect 'o.'

This time, Pippin raised the pipe in a salute, "The salted pork is particularly good."

The Dwarf looked a little envious.

"…Salted pork?"

"Hobbits," Gandalf sighed.

The Halflings appeared not to have heard him.

"We're under orders from Treebeard," he told them with pride, "who's taken over management of Isengard."

Merry was placed on Théoden's horse, and Pippin on the soldier's as they rode through. Whatever this place had been, it was destroyed. Wooden splinters lay everywhere, in what looked to be knee-deep water, remnants of what had once stood. The only thing still standing was the large, ominous, black tower ahead of them. That and a talkative tree. A huge, talkative tree.

"Young master Gandalf," Treebeard droned, "I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master. But there is a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

"Show yourself," Aragorn hissed at the building.

Gandalf stared ahead of him.

"Be careful," he warned, "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

Gimli grunted in annoyance, "Well, let's just have his head and be done with it!"

"No," the wizard scolded him, "We need him alive."

Émoer looked at him sharply, eyes telling volumes.

"We need him to talk," Gandalf finished.

The voice that drifted to their ears was elderly, and bitter beyond belief.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did my old friend?"

Saruman appeared, looking fail in dirty white robes, leaning against his staff for support. Though he stood high above them, on tope of the tower, his voice sounded as if he whispered in their ears.

"Can we not have peace, you and I?"

"We shall have peace," the King said resolutely, "when your answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there!"

Destiny flinched, moving to cover her ears, but Trinity caught her eye, silently warning her not to do so. Such weakness was not acceptable, especially not from her kin.

"We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged!"

They looked to Saruman, watching with hate.

"When you have from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace."

The wizard glared.

"Gibbets and crows?" he scoffed, "Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess. The Key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dûr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"

Nothing he said mattered to Gandalf, "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk. But you can save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy counsel."

"So you have come here for information," Saruman said with a smirk, "I have some for you."

From the haven of his robes, he pulled out a black ball, which settled neatly into the palm of his hand. Too large to wrap his fingers around it, but light enough to hold in one hand.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth," his malicious whisper said, "Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage."

The ball disappeared back into the flowing robe.

"His attack will come soon."

Gandalf moved Shadowfax forward, sloshing through the water. Saruman grinned grotesquely.

"You're all going to die."

_I'm bleeding to death! _

Trinity pressed her head against Aragorn's back unwillingly, trying to rid her mind of the memories. She knew now why they kept coming. Evalgine used them as weapons to gain strength. Aragorn looked back, surprised at the feel.

_Help me!_

"But you know this, don't you, Gandalf?"

_Please!_

"You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor."

_Stop it, Ebal! _

_They dragged me out by my ankles_.

Aragorn turned his head from Trinity to Saruman, a calm look on his face, but anger in his heart.

"This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king."

_Through the dirt and the mud. _

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to _love_."

_They gave me a sword. _

Gimli glanced at Gandalf, wondering how much abuse he would take.

"Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom?"

_And I thrust it into her stomach. _

Gandalf lowered his eyes to the ground.

"The path you have set him on can only lead to death."

_Through her belly. _

"I've heard enough!" Gimli cried out suddenly.

"Shoot him," he told the Elf, "stick an arrow in his gob."

Legolas reached for his bow.

_STOP IT! _

"No," Gandalf said evenly.

Legolas dropped his hand reluctantly.

"Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."

_**You killed my sister. **_

"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!"

Flames swallowed Gandalf, surrounded the white rider. Destiny screamed, clutching Émoer to her in desperation. Trinity snapped out of her own mental battle, watching the scene with honest anxiety. Legolas had drawn his bow, and Gimli looked ready to roll off the horse and into the water if the need arose. As the fire cleared, Gandalf stood unharmed.

"Saruman," he yelled, "your staff is broken."

Sure enough, it shattered into fire and wood, leaving useless debris behind. From behind Saruman, the snake-man, Grima Wormtongue, limped into view.

"Gima," Théoden called up to him, "you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

Gima's eyes watered.

"A Man of Rohan?" Saruman sneered, "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden _Horse-master_. You are a lesser son of greater sires."

_Cut him. Kill him. _

"Stop," Trinity growled.

The wizard's eyes moved to hers, "Have you had enough, Trinitas? Is your turmoil more than you can stand? Welcome to the darkness, child of Wamyric, born with tainted blood."

The snake-man's eyes moved to her, mouth slightly agape. The others looked to her as well. All except the king.

"Grima," Théoden said gently, "Come down. Be free of him."

"Free? He will never be free!"

Gima shook his head, "No."

"Get down, cur!" Saruman barked, knocking him to the ground with the back of his hand."

_Dada loves you, darling, that is why he must punish you._

"Stop it!" Trinity cried out.

"A bit too familiar, Trinitas?" Saruman mocked.

She held her head in her hands. She could feel hands on her body, hurting and grabbing. And the eyes. The eyes watching her.

"Saruman!" Gandalf bellowed, "You are deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

"You withdraw your guard," he bargained, "and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here."

None saw Grima and the knife until it was too late, and the man plunged the blade into the wizard's back again and again, stopped only by the arrow, which hit him in the heart. He fell backward, and Saruman's body slumped forward. Over the side of the tower, flipping, until at least it was impaled on a water mill below. Merry gasped, covering his hand with his mouth. Destiny pressed her face in Émoer's back.

"Send word to all our allies," Gandalf told Théoden shortly, "and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

The mill began to move, creaking as it offered Saruman's body to the murky waters below. The black sphere slipped from his robe.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard said, his bark settling, "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees. Wild tees."

Pippin jumped down from the soldier's horse, wading through the water with purpose.

"Pippin!" Aragorn called to him.

The Hobbit ignored the ranger, and bent to scoop something out of the water. Soon, he held the black sphere in his hands. Gandalf rode up beside him, easing Shadowfax to a halt.

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard exclaimed.

"Peregrin Took," the wizard said, reaching down, "I'll take that, my lad."

Pippin looked at it longingly.

"Quickly, now."

Unwillingly, he handed it to Gandalf, who hid it beneath a few stray pieces of fabric. He gave the Halfling a stern look, and Pippin looked down in shame, looking back only when the wizard began to ride away.

OoOoOoOoOo

Edoras looked exactly the same. It stood proud, tall, and oblivious to the fact that its inhabitants had fled. Its only joy was in their celebration of life, resting its heart in the breasts of the Men who had fought so bravely. The memorial came first, in remembrance of those whose lives had been forfeited. For Haldir and every other fallen soldier.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country," Théoden had said with sad pride, "Hail the victorious dead."

"Hail!" replied the crowd in unison, raising their own mugs in commemoration. In memory.

Even Trinity drank the ale that night.

Then it began. Fiddles played, strings expertly manipulated by clever fingers. Cheerful songs and ovation rose into the air, tables were packed with food of all kinds, drinks were served, and the whores brought out for a bit of harmless fun. _To each their own_, thought Trinity plainly, refusing to acknowledge the fact that Faith and Scarlette were constantly pressed against some male or another. Tonight, she would allow their childish behavior. Tonight, they were their own rulers and they would be faced with their consequences tomorrow morning.

Scarlette's full lips wrapped around the tip of one man's ear, nibbling with need. Her breasts, accentuated by the tight corset, rested against his neck. Thankfully, Trinity had removed Dezaria from this place even before the festivities began (much to the girl's disdain), telling her that it was no place for a girl to be. Especially a girl of thirteen. Somewhere in the room, Faith laughed, encouraging the man who licked at her neck to continue even as she reached for another mug of ale.

_Married whore_, she thought bitterly and pushed her own mug away. Violent thoughts were already stirring, made worse by the small sum of alcohol in her system. She measured the scene with distant eyes, deciding to wander until the party was done with. Crowds always made her uncomfortable.

OoOoOoOoOo

"No pauses, no spills," Émoer instructed before handing Legolas and Gimli each a leather mug.

"And no regurgitation," the Dwarf added, his hands wrapping around the mug in glee.

From Émoer's arm, Destiny laughed sweetly and he gave her an indulgent smile.

"So," the Elf said, brow creased, "it's a drinking game?"

Trinity appeared at Gimli's side as if by magic, "It would appear so, Princeling."

Since Helm's Deep, she had taken to calling him that. He admitted that he did not particularly mind, though he wished the hostile undertone would wane.

"Last one standing wins," Gimli agreed with a suggestive laugh.

Legolas stared into the brown liquid, listening in slight disgust as the Dwarf slurped his noisily. Distrust settled in his gaze.

"Barbaric," he mumbled under his breath before raising the cup slowly to his lips.

As he drank, he focused on Trinity, who stared back without a trace of resentment, her hand on Destiny's shoulder. With faint surprise, he noticed her attire. It seemed she had actually agreed to wear the dress Éowyn provided, and slipped grudgingly into the corset as well. The dark leather accentuated the flat waist, and pushed the white breasts up in offering. From her gaze, he knew what she thought. He did not belong, dressed properly in the silver undershirt he normally wore, hair clean, with subtle braids pulling the hair away from his delicately pointed ears. He was too innocent to this game. Too pure.

Gimli gulped down many more mugs, and he did as well. After each, he reached for another, professionally, as though he had done it all his life. The spectators grew fewer by the second. Now only four watched them. Émoer, who filled each mug from the barrel, with Destiny faithfully by his side, her timid nature showing mightily in this noisy place. Scarlette, who draped herself over Gimli's chair, rubbing the Dwarf's shoulders with leisurely seductive movements. And Trinity, who looked at her friend with a slight look of disapproval, leaning back in her chair.

Standing briefly, Gimli let out a predominantly loud fart, earning a strange look from Émoer and Destiny. Scarlette made a face, moving from behind him with great haste, which prompted a laugh from Trinity. Unaware that he had most likely lost his chance at bedding Scarlette, the Dwarf laughed; pleased at the mutual feeling of repugnance he had created.

"It's the Dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women," he announced, making a rather obscene gesture to the people gathered around him.

Scowling, Trinity reached for a mug, only to have her hand slapped away by Scarlette of all people. Something in Legolas' mind felt lightened, and he choked back laughter. It was then that he noticed the strange feeling.

"I feel something," he said breathlessly, staring at his hand.

Émoer raised his eyebrows.

"A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me."

Trinity laughed, long and sweet at the bewildered look on his face.

"Whaddid I shay?" Gimli slurred, "He can't 'old his liquor."

Leaning forward, Trinity blew on the Dwarf's nose, smiling teasingly as both he and his chair tipped backwards. Legolas held back a smile.

"Game over," he stated wryly.

OoOoOoOoOo

The night blurred, mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol, the sound of laughter and poorly tuned music. He continued drinking, wondering like an Elfling at what would happen if he had too much. What would happen? Scarlette grinned widely at him, and he could see the idea forming in her brain. Though, in his current stupor, he could not stop or decipher it in time. She pushed her way through the men around her, gripping the Elf's arm with clouded eyes and drunken slurs of eagerness. She led him away from the crowd, past the noise and into a little room. What would happen? What would happen? She shoved him inside, closing the door behind him.

Legolas cursed out loud, and as he caught himself against the stumble, he turned in time to see the door fly open again, and watched a disgruntled Trinity be shoved in with the same crude gesture. Without so much as a look his way, she whirled on the door, pounding her fists into it. He could hear a muffled giggle in response.

"Scarlette!" she hollered, "This is _not_ funny! Let us out!"

From behind the door, her laughter increased, then died away.

They were alone, shoved into a little room together, in the dark.

He retreated to one of the walls, sitting himself neatly of the floor as he watched her vigorously try to knock the door off its hinges. With an irrational kick, she surrendered, sucking in a painful breath as her foot stung from the impact. It was then he noticed her boots were not the heavy leather material from before, but replaced with thin cloth. She limped to the wall across from him and sank to the ground in defeat. Legolas cleared his throat, hoping that his speech would not be impaired by the liquor.

"Are you alright?" he asked gently.

Trinity glared, "What do you care?"

A little sigh escaped his lips, the fine features slipped into a melancholy look.

"Please," he said quietly, "don't act like this."

Her saw set, "Like what, _Master_ Greenleaf?"

He hated the mocking tone she used, the heat of her glare.

"Cold. Distant. Vindictive."

"Vindictive?" she laughed, mood seemingly rising from his accusation, "You think _I_ am vindictive? Almighty, you should see my past lover."

His thoughts were distorted with anger, recalling suddenly that this woman used Evalgine's body. But this anger was not necessarily devoted to her alone, it was contempt for himself. Knowing that he _could_ forget that this woman was not even a real being.

"Lovers," he corrected heatedly.

Immediately, he regretted it. Those stunning features melted into a look of utter fury.

"My _lovers_ are none of your concern, Princeling."

He shifted, "You mentioned it."

He sounded like a child.

The look on her face told him to cease talking. Sadness and pain and memory echoed in both minds.

"I'm sorry," he whispered at last, "It is not my concern what you do. Even if it does involve Haldir…and Boromir."

"And what was wrong with them?" her voice was strained, miserable.

His courage increased by the glimpse of emotion, "They…seemed the type to take advantage of a distressed woman."

"And you would not?" her response came so quick that he hadn't time to think of a proper answer. A truthful answer.

"No," he said too quickly.

Trinity smiled, leaning forward, preparing the trap.

"Even if she were beautiful."

The emerald irises left him stunned, "No."

Slowly, she scooted herself forward. Inch by inch until she reached the tip of his boots.

"Even if she wanted you as well, with all her being?"

"No," he whispered, eyes on hers.

A predatory smile eclipsed her features and he watched uneasily as she moved forward. Her legs were on either side of his, hands on either side of his hips, her face level with his chest. If he looked down, he could see the white flesh of her breasts.

"Even," she sighed sweetly, inhaling his scent, "if she asked you to touch her? To trail your fingertips across her skin?"

He could not meet her eyes anymore, and instead looked at the door with great interest, "No."

Her lips met the crook of his neck.

Evalgine faded from memory.

Her mouth moved temptingly against the skin, "Even if she offered herself to you?"

Legolas could not answer, and closed his eyes at the feeling.

Those full lips moved to the corner of his mouth, lingering. He willed himself not to look at her, even as she guided his hand to her chest. Pressing her hand over his, she forced him to feel the cold flesh.

"Even," she gasped, "if she lay before you, vulnerable and completely willing?"

He could not do it. Not like this. She deserved better.

"No," he answered softly.

She pulled away slightly, leaving enough space for him to look her in the eyes. He turned his head obediently.

"_Why_?" she asked with bated breath, eyes shining with such a charming, frank curiosity, as though she truly did not understand the wickedness in him taking a saddened woman on the brink of suicide.

"Because," he replied gently, "there is no love between us, only desperation. She wants me to give her pleasure, to stir life within her. But there are better ways to do so. Bedding her would destroy whatever soul she has left. She is no whore. Only lost."

She avoided his gaze, staring at the ring's shape beneath the fabric of his shirt and released his hand. Instead of letting it fall, Legolas chose to caress her cheek.

"Perhaps she is only a whore, and nothing else," Trinity breathed bitterly, leaning into his touch.

Boldly, he traced her lips with his thumb, "Never."

She leaned in as though she mean to kiss him. Her lips barely felt his, a ghost of touch. Hesitation followed, as she curled her fingers in his hair. And Valar, he wanted it. Wanted her. But he sat completely still, afraid that anything he might do, anything he might say, could ruin this moment. This chance. Suddenly, she halted, jerking her head away. Wincing, she withdrew, flattening herself against the wall across from him. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and studied them with sad eyes.

"I can't," she whispered into the darkness.

The door opened.

"Christ," Destiny said in an apologetic voice, "I'm so, so sorry! I don't know what's gotten into Scarlette!"

Trinity looked to her friend and smirked, "I'd wager it had something to do with alcohol."

The color rose in Destiny's cheeks, "Well, yes, I know that. Can you…come help me with her? She's somewhat…dancing on the tables and I can't get her off."

She nodded, her eyes resting on Legolas for an instant before taking her leave. They left the door open.

Taking a few moments to regain his composure, the Elf melted back into the festivities with ease.


	17. Scars and Making Love Out Of Them

Lady Galadriel paused, a faint smile touching her lips

**Disclaimer****:** I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

**Note:** I'm going to try something different with the Earth peep's story. Basically, I'm gonna put more of it in. Hopefully, you'll like it! D

**Warning:** There is a lot of sexual content and violence in this particular chapter….

OoOoOoOoOo 

_She stared at the body the way a young child watched the stars. Awe and envy echoed in her gaze, completely enthralled at the sight of her closest friend's body swaying from the doorway. Back and forth it swung, the breeze leading it in the intricate dance, the neck stretched beyond its limit. Back and forth. Back and forth. In the far-off distance, a door slammed, bringing her back to reality. With a sigh, Trinity pushed past the body into the house. It took only moments for her to locate the stepstool. Just as quick, she found a sharp knife and the portable phone. Simultaneously, she climbed onto the stool and called the police. _

"_Nine-one-one," said a grave voice, "what's your emergency?" _

_The knife worked against the rope, blade glittering in the afternoon sun. "My friend hung herself." _

_The rope snapped, and Trinity had only a moment in which to think that she had miscalculated the weight before Margaret's heavy limbs dragged her to the ground. Had there been any life within her, Margaret Johnson would have been proud of this accomplishment. But there wasn't. She was dead. Peeking out from under the suffocating pile of cooling flesh, Trinity reached for the abandoned phone. Muffled words spurted from the receiver. _

"_Ma'am? Ma'am? Are you there?" _

'_Where else could I be,' she thought bitterly as her fingers finally wrapped themselves around the hard plastic. _

"_Yes," she grunted, crawling out from under the corpse, "I'm still here."_

OoOoOoOoOo 

Scarlette was easy enough to find. Her hips moved to the music, singing their own sweetly seductive melody as the notes wrapped themselves around the tight flesh. A shockingly red flash of hair moved as well, closely cropped so as to avoid any trouble when she danced. Scarlette Rowe was a creature of the hunt. Of the party, and she knew better than to fuss with such trivial matters. Sweat ran pooled between her breasts and she instinctively reached for the ties of her corset to loosen them, to let the leather fall from her skin and allow the air to cool it. Someone shouted her name, cheer and hollers. Yes, this was her life, her oxygen. This attention was everything she ever wanted. Everything she could never receive from her mother as a child. Maybe this was why her mother slept with so many men and women, why she whored herself out. The rush of being desired, the thrill of knowing she could make people's blood run hot, made her feel alive.

Cold hands gripped hers, forcing her to halt.

"Time for bed, Scarlette," Trinity whispered in her ear.

God, her breath felt so good, so delicious against her heated skin. Desire colored her cheeks. For many years, Trinity had been her friend. And for many years, Scarlette tried to convince her that women were just as engaging as men. With the great amount of ale in her system, the Latina tried yet again to seduce her.

"Bonita," she moaned, grinding herself against her friend.

Again, someone hollered. A lonely man, excited by her promiscuous nature, she couldn't disappoint her public, and spun around, reaching for the ties of Trinity's corset.

Effortlessly, she caught Scarlette's hands, "Stop."

The easy smile faded, replaced with a sensual pout, "Por favor!"

"Let her be!" shouted on of the men with a perverted grin.

Trinity's face darkened as she pulled Scarlette away from the table. Leading her away, she barely protested, thinking perhaps this was the moment she had been waiting for. She called teasingly to her audience that she would entertain them later. Now, it seemed, it was Trinity's turn for pleasure. At least, her drunken mind thought so. When they reached Scarlette's room, her friend hurled her inside, slamming the door behind them. Scarlette stumbled to the bed, lying face first on the fabric. Hoping, praying, that Trinity's body would slip next to hers, that anyone's body would slip next to hers.

"I want you," whispered the Spanish accent.

Even without looking, she knew Trinity was shaking her head, "Go to sleep, Scarlette."

The door shut, leaving her alone with the thought that she had really fucked up this time. If anything, she deserved to be left alone. Her past and tears beat her senselessly into a fitful sleep.

OoOoOoOoOo 

_The voice cleared its throat, "I'm sending the ambulance your way. Please hang on until they arrive. If you'd like, I can stay on the line with you until then." _

_She caught the receiver between her shoulder and ear, freeing her hands._

"_No," she stated flatly, pulling Margaret's body into the house, "that is not necessary." _

_She had work to do._

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity frowned, moving the silver charm along the chain, her eyes distant. In the back of her mind, Evalgine remained respectfully silent, not wishing to unleash anymore rage. Around Trinity, men pressed against her, whispering about desire. She pushed them away, not wanting it. That thing called sex, which had never meant much to her anyway. Scarlette's former act affected her little, as it was routine by now.

Drinking had always been among her friend's favorite pastimes and it nearly always led to someone in her bed at the end. Or her in someone else's bed, Trinity was not sure which one was the most experienced. Too many times, Scarlette had called her in tears, confiding in her that she did not know who or what she did that night, and needed a ride home. Each time, Trinity dutifully located her, and scolded her during the car ride home. Tonight, however, there was no scolding, no lesson. After all, Trinity was the one who pumped heroin into her veins. To scold Scarlette for merely drinking would be the most disgusting form of hypocrisy.

Someone pressed her against a pillar, moving his rough hands over her body.

For a moment, she closed her eyes, trying her hardest not to kill him.

In a strained voice, she said simply: "My lord."

Lips followed his hands, pushing down the right shoulder of her gown.

"My lord. As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I fear we cannot fulfill this….craving."

The man lifted his head, revealing the boyish face underneath thick red hair.

"And why is that, my lady?"

"I am spoken for," she answered, hands slipping to his chest, preparing to push him away.

Confusing the message, his hands covered hers.

"Oh?" he replied with an arched brow, "By whom?"

"By me."

Legolas' voice had never been more needed.

The strange male studied the Elf with guarded eyes, Trinity did the same.

"Yes," she smiled softly, "by him."

He looked as though he would not let her go, but complied when Legolas held out his arms for her. Dispassionately, he shoved her into the Elf's strong arms. But he did not leave. Thinking quickly, Legolas cupped his hands around her face, bringing her lips to his. Their mouths met chastely at first, but grew more and more licentious by the moment. His tongue played with hers, his hands moved from her cheeks to her hair, burying themselves in the silky strands. She responded by pressing herself against him in a pleading fashion, but her hands stayed rooted at her sides. Even after the man walked away, it took them several moments to stop and beat back the pleasure ruling over them.

Suddenly, Trinity drew away; the smile lingered on her face for a few blissful seconds, and then faded into a look of slight agitation. He used her yet again, to assure himself that Evalgine lived. And worst yet, she allowed it. She _enjoyed_ it. _Wanted_ it. Wanted _him_. She lowered her eyes, avoiding the intensity of his gaze, the curves of his body, and caught her breath.

"Thank you, Princeling," she said at last, casting her eyes to his.

Legolas frowned, no doubt confused by her slightly troubled tone. His mouth opened as though to speak, but she left.

She could not see the shape of his mouth anymore. It drove her mad.

OoOoOoOoOo 

_Only after she hung up the phone did Trinity break. Swallowing the pressing guilt that rose in her belly, she dragged Margaret's body down the hall and into the master bedroom. Lifeless blue eyes stared unseeingly at the ceiling as Trinity dialed another number into the phone. She heard the click before the voice, the sign that the other person was ready to speak. _

"_Pick Dezaria up from school," she ordered without a greeting, "Get her off the bus. No matter what. Stall her." _

"_Why?" Destiny's voice sounded very small, and very frightened. _

"_Margaret's dead, Destiny, I'm sorry." _

_Trinity heard the sound of sobs. _

"_Oh…God." _

_Sighing, she prepared to take on the role of the heartless. "Don't cry. Not now. Just go." _

"_What about Craig?" _

"_Let me handle Craig." _

"…_I've lost my sister…"_

"_I know," Trinity said soothingly, "I know, but your niece has lost her mother." _

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas stood alone, the cold nipping the little flesh that was still exposed at the base of his neck. He drew his hood, staring into the distance. Recalling the taste of Trinity's tongue, Trinity's, not Evalgine's, how incredibly soft the texture of her hair was, sliding easily through his fingers. Her scent, her voice, her presence alone, all so intoxicating to him. Valar, he wanted her there beside him.

His wish was granted.

He heard her walking even before he could see her, the sound of her footsteps, heavy and unsure as she worked her way to his side. Before he could think, he swept her into his arms and pressed her against the stone wall of the keep. His nimble hands gripped the backs of her thighs, proving himself to have great strength as he held her in that position. It was her mouth that found his then, tongue sliding between his lips for the second time that night. Her fingers caught in his hair, trailed down the side of his jaw. Hastily, he pushed the skirt over her thighs, revealing her to the night. He freed one hand momentarily, long enough to reach for the ties of his own leggings, and then allowed it to return after the task was complete.

The entrance was swift and simple, and their gasps created the sweetest symphony he had ever heard. Briefly, Legolas considered the fact that perhaps he was being too rough, but she only moaned, encouraging him to go deeper. Go faster. He kissed her throat and lips freely, tenderly, as thought she were the most precious thing in all of Middle-Earth.

"Trinity," he gasped softly as he came.

She arched her back and hips, receiving what he offered, everything he offered, and moaned once more. Gently, he kissed her forehead before letting her stand on her own, her dress fell around her lithe legs, and she looked down at them as he fixed his leggings. When he glanced up again, he watched her slide down the wall as though her legs had simply surrendered to her weight. Legolas caught her by the arms, concern flicking in his gaze.

"Trinity?" he whispered in trepidation.

Her eyes found his, the fathomless expression taking hold.

"Satisfied?" she hissed with arched eyebrows, and shoved him away.

Legolas did not watch her leave, but listened instead. Confusion swirled in his mind and he pressed his forehead against the stone, letting it cool the sweat off his brow.

OoOoOoOoOo

_With shaking hands, Trinity called Margaret's husband, Craig. _

"_Trinity," he breathed, voice a bit husky from remembrance and lust. _

_She could hear the grin in his voice and it did not help that his office had caller I.D. and that her presence gave him courage. _

_Unfortunately, his heat was not so infectious, "Your wife is dead." _

_She had meant to ease the blow, to be gentle with the news, but the egotistically hot tone of his voice left her furious. She wanted to hurt him the way he hurt Margaret. To make his world crash down around him, the way Margaret's had when she caught them together. Even though Trinity had been the other woman, the bimbo, the slut, she thought it her duty to tear this man to shreds. In Margaret's place, she hated him. _

"_What did you do?" _

_The question caught her off guard, something rather hard to do. Could he honestly believe it was her who hung his wife? _

_  
"If I am responsible, then so are you. What we did was inexcusable. We destroyed her. Together." _

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity lay on her bed, the cloth of her robe resting against the quilt. Her pale fingers traced the fabric's design, trying to forget the feel of his mouth on hers, the flavor of his tongue. He was not hers. He was not hers, she chanted over and over to herself, feeding her the necessary bitterness she used to survive. Evalgine was strangely silent.

_Why so quiet, Ebal?_

The girl did not respond and a secret desire to protect her arose. For the first time in many years, Trinity's resentment did not affect her thoughts toward her creator.

_Ebal, sweet, what is it?_

_**He made love to me…**_

Trinity closed her eyes, resting her face in her arms. She knew this, the body reeked of his woodland scent.

_Is that not what you wanted? _

_**Yes…**_

_Then why mope? _

She felt slightly annoyed, but fought the emotion. Evalgine needed patience, much like little Dezaria. In the deepest part of her mind, Trinity could see her. Sill fifteen, still a girl, her eyes swollen red from tears. Trinity touched her cheek comfortingly.

_**He said your name.**_

The hand withdrew.

_What?_

_**He was inside me and…and he said your name.**_

The thought made her temporarily ill. She nearly called her a liar, but knew better. Evalgine did not know how to lie.

_**He never asked my name. He didn't know it was me. **_

_Scum. _

She could not think of another response that would not give away the sudden weight in her chest. Had she ever felt like this before? Wanted something so much that it hurt? Did she dare dream…?

_This is what happens when you hand your heart to the enemy, Evalgine. You and I, we are creatures of darkness, the holy and pure manipulate things like us._

Did she truly believe these thoughts?

_We are tools to them._

Her hands gripped the blankets.

_Nothing else._

She wanted one thing, she convinced herself, and that was not the Elf.

It was sleep.

OoOoOoOoOo 

_Her arms shook, weighed down by the hunk of metal between her chubby hands. The small fingers, almost completely hidden by mounds of flesh, just met around the handle of the gun. Lightly, she touched the trigger, summoning her fabricated Lord to protect her. To give her strength. Warily, she lined the barrel up with each woman in the room. Scarlette, then Faith, then Destiny, back to Scarlette, and finally Trinity. The woman who stole her husband, her children, her life. Blue eyes flinched, magnified by thick lenses. Margaret had to kill her. She had to. God didn't want her to live, that nasty little prostitute. He said it Himself in the dream. _

OoOoOoOoOo 

Valar, what was he doing? As if independent from his body, his feet lead him to Trinity's room and he yearned for more of her. Every fiber of Legolas' being wanted to hid inside her and never return to the open air. This was a more than a question of mere lust now, it was obsession. Years of loneliness had made him pitifully needing.

Upon reaching the door, he paused. It was late, far too late to do this now, to speak with her. Surely she was asleep by now, buried and wrapped within the dark secrets of her mind. Or perhaps battling Evalgine, assuring her that the sex with him meant nothing but satisfaction of a mediocre need. He gritted his teeth. A thousand years she had waited, holding onto feeble faith. And now that the time had come for them to be together, he had made love to another. A woman who never really existed, a being of imagination.

The door opened, revealing her beautiful face, her elegant body clothed only in a robe, leaving him stunned for a few moments.

"I can still taste you," he whispered in desperate humiliation.

Her soft lips parted, head tilted to the side. Her hair gathered over one shoulder, offering the other side of her neck. Slowly he leaned down, trailing his lips along the flesh not hidden by the cloth. She did not move or push him away, but stood still, almost as if she were afraid.

Legolas drew a shuddering gasp against her skin, "Once more."

He hated having to plead, having to show weakness to her, when she was not supposed to subsist. Trinity's eyes read his, and she reached up, taking his face in her hands.

"It wasn't me," she murmured softly, like a Naneth to her Iôn.

Legolas' heart faltered.

OoOoOoOoOo 

"_Margaret," Destiny begged, "don't do this. Please." _

_Deftly, she aimed the gun at her own sister. Who, staring at potential death, began to cry. Lazy tars dripped from her eyes, tracing slow, even lines down her flushed cheeks. Margaret let her finger leave the trigger momentarily, and pulled it back, flexing the strength of that one digit. The Power of God in one knuckle. _

_Trinity put up her hands in a gesture of defeat. "Put down the gun, Margaret." _

"_No," her voice was firm, hands unsteady._

OoOoOoOoOo 

Evalgine sobbed loudly, causing a sharp pain to hit Trinity's right temple. Making no indication of the injury, she looked to Legolas with calm eyes, though his were slightly panicked. Her hands left his body, too cautious about what might happen should she keep them there. He was too perfect, too pure.

"It was not me," she repeated evenly.

He stared at the floor in shame, "I called her by your name."

Pity welled up within her, seeing the warrior like that. On top of her burning desire, it was too much, too quick. She could not allow this. She was a soldier, first and foremost, and a nanny second, then a friend. Lover was not seen in her list of professions. After all, she had had only two in her lifespan. Wanting Legolas would destroy her; make her incompetent, foreign to pain. The reasons to end this relationship were endless and sensible.

"I know," she answered in a hushed tone, opening the door wider for his entrance.

OoOoOoOoOo 

"_Knock it off, Marge!" _

_Mutters rose into the air, half hearted attempts to stop her. The finger touched the trigger._

_Deadly silence took hold. _

"_Margie," Faith's voice cracked, "C'mon, hun, you don't wanna hurt us." _

_The stout woman swallowed, the rolls of ivory flesh hanging from her chin jiggled. _

"_No," she agreed mildly, and then lined up her vision with the barrel. It rested on Trinity's face. She could blow that perfect head right off her slender shoulders, the perky breasts off her slim torso, the flat stomach, and the flawlessly defined hips could be gone in an instant. "Just her." _

OoOoOoOoOo 

He slipped inside, glancing around at the haven. The walls were stone, as were the floors. Against one wall, an armoire, and the cot against the other, leaving the space wide and empty. His eyes found hers promptly as he lowered himself onto the bed, sitting on the side. Emerald irises took on a contemplating look even as she straddled him and laid kiss on his cheeks and lips. Her hands rested against his chest, and Legolas pressed his over them, letting them rise and fall with his every breath. With sadly lustful eyes, he watched her wriggle out of the robe, showing him the smooth flesh underneath. He eyes memorized every mark, every curve, as his fingers traced her body.

Between kisses, he mumbled to her: "I love her still."

Gravely, she pulled away, staring at him with haunted eyes.

"I know."

OoOoOoOoOo 

"_Stop it!"_

"_Put it down."_

"_Don't kill her, Margie!" _

"_It won't solve anything."_

"_Get rid of the gun." _

_Trinity didn't say a word, but smirked in silent mocking. Margaret could feel her sins like needles. _

"_Momma – "_

_The gun fired, and Dezaria's six-year-old hip exploded in blood._

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity pushed him onto his back, slipping her hands underneath the soft blue cloth. Shamelessly, she groped him, feeling the well-defined muscle and unmarred skin. Stripping him of the undershirt, she left him in the leggings. Almighty, the Elf was perfect. Not a mark on him, no scars, just flawless white skin. Her lips replaced her hands, tasting the flesh, the sweetest sin. She started at his neck and moved down to his chest and down lower to his navel, and even a little below that before she claimed his mouth again. As they broke apart, his fingers brushed the silver chain around her neck inquiringly. In answer, she gripped it, breaking the chain as she tossed it aside carelessly. Tonight, he was the only male she thought of.

Teasingly, he explored her the same way she had with him. Those agile hands ran over her thighs and stomach and chest before at last they touched her back. The touch turned slow, questioning. Cerulean eyes studied her, confusion within them. She looked away for a moment before laying herself beside him, exposing her bare back to the open air. A sad smile crossed over her features as she heard him suck in a breath through his teeth.

OoOoOoOoOo 

_Destiny screamed and ran to her niece, Faith joined her. Trinity and Scarlette stood in horror, staring blankly at the deranged woman before them. Margaret's eyes filled with undeserved tears. _

"_Dezzy?" she whimpered. _

_And then, Trinity lunged, dragging down her employer's body with unmatched hostility. They gun slid across the floor, well out of Marge's reach, and she laid there in utter defeat as the hired nanny struck her repeatedly. Even when the blood began to run, and she fell unconscious, Trinity beat her mercilessly. _

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas' eyes widened at the sight of her bare back. Carved into the skin, disfiguring the flesh, were hundreds of scars. In some strange way, it almost resembled tree bark in its tough appearance. His hands moved over the marks, calculating their age and severity, and to the black ink on either shoulder. Whatever these markings were, they differed from the scars and were fashioned in the shape of wings. Colored strangely, they amazed him, and he found himself trailing his fingertips over the symbols for a long time, noting with slight wonder that they were placed over two scars, hiding them wandering eyes. Every mark felt as though it were not very old.

"What happened to you?" he demanded, a slight hint of anger in his tone.

She shivered under his accusing touch, "Many things happened. Wars, arguments, love, hate, revenge, obsession, torture. I deserve them all. I survived them all."

OoOoOoOoOo 

"_Call an ambulance!"_

_Hit. _

"_Dezzy, baby, stay awake, you've got to stay with me." _

_Hit. _

"_I ca…I ca…I can't feel my legs." _

_Crunch. _

"_Trinity!"_

_Her fist stung, but she kept going. _

"_Trinity!" _

_Over and over, connecting with saggy flesh. _

"_Stop!" _

_Margaret wanted to punish her in the name of God. _

"_Please!"_

_Trinity beat her in the name of Dezaria Johnson. _

"_You're going to kill her!" _

_She felt a warm hand on her shoulder._

"_Dezaria's bleeding to death!"_

_Only those words stopped her. _

OoOoOoOoOo 

She gave him her trust. One of the greatest shames she carried now displayed before his probing eyes. Trinity did not look at him out of fear; fear that she would see something in his gaze. Pity, or worse, _love_, _caring_.

"I suppose," she whispered gravely, "you find them grotesque."

He drew a breath, "Why would I think that?"

"Most do."

OoOoOoOoOo 

_Trinity froze in mid-swing, snapping her head to where the 'aunties' crouched around Dezaria's body. With a cold glare at Margaret's battered form, she rolled way, extending her hand to Scarlette for assistance. Summoning the last of her will, Trinity dropped to her knees beside Dezaria and ran her hands over the wound, mentally calculating the severity. From the amount of blood lost combined with the generous amount still coming, Trinity presumed that the child did not have much time left. They had to move quickly, or she would die before the ambulance ever arrived. _

_Behind her, a muffled scream sounded. _

_Then came the second blast and her last sight was the blood pouring from her own stomach. _

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas kept tracing the lines, thinking. And then, he did something that surprised them both. He leaned down, and outlined the shape of one scar with his tongue.

"Actually, Elves find scars fascinating," he said, pulling away, "each one tells a tale. Perhaps one day I might be blessed enough to know all of yours."

She laughed a little, strained: "Perhaps."

He laid beside her now, his palm still moving over the small of her back, intrigued by the strange pattern in the skin. He leaned over, kissing her shoulder harmoniously. Her head faced the other way, hiding her expression.

"Trinity," he whispered.

She turned her face to him, and he saw such trust in her gaze.

"Remember who I am, Legolas. Remember this moment."

Something tugged at his heart and he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Because this can never happen again."

He suddenly felt the weight of the ring around his neck. Frodo Baggins carried the fate of Middle-Earth of his chain. Legolas Greenleaf carried the fate of a dead lover on his. His mouth found Trinity's with ease.

"I understand," he whispered against her lips.

He rolled onto her, pinning her benevolently to the cot.

"Never again," he swore before slipping inside her.

OoOoOoOoOo 

He slept with his eyes wide. Trinity had not known that, and it startled her at first to see him like that. Dead, lifeless gaze focused on the ceiling. Luckily, she had noticed the slight move of his chest before she panicked, thinking that she had killed him. That would have destroyed her.

_Evalgine? _

_**Yes? **_

_I'm sorry. _

And for the first time in her life, Trinity truly was. For everything she had forced them to become.

OoOoOoOoOo

Morning should have never come. Night should have swallowed the light from the sun forever, creating eternal hours. Endless hours for Trinity and Legolas to stay together, to continue their pursuit of passion interrupted by the garish day. She moved her palms against the empty cot, summoning the image of his bare chest and stomach, attempting to keep the vision, despite the overwhelming guilt. Many hours had been spent in the effort to please, until at last they could take no more, and she lay naked and unashamed, admiring the beauty that was them. Together. And while she pretended to sleep, he dressed and fled, no doubt seeing no reason to stay. How the promise around his neck must have stung! A painful reminder of what he once had, and now tossed aside. Silence had been his main attribute, besides his groans, he had said as little as possible.

Why had she done this? She was certainly no stranger to the consequences. Yet the moment in which he confided in her, the moment he confessed the desire to taster her 'again,' she surrendered. She had to know if it was true. She had to know if he…

…if he…

She could not comprehend the rest of her thoughts, and Evalgine was far too angry to explain them, one of the many lovely consequences.

_Ebal, stop acting like a petulant child and help me understand! _

Bitter silence.

Sighing, Trinity pressed her forehead against the cot, blackening her vision. She tried a sweeter approach.

_I apologize, for the thousandth time, I could restrain myself. I was weak. _

Nothing.

She did not inconvenience herself with hiding her irritation.

_Damn it, Evalgine! What is the matter with you? Why do you not hate the Princeling as well?_

_**I did not create him. **_

_Because I am your creation, that means you may hate me freely? _

_**I do not hate you, Trinitas. I am not angry. **_

She felt her lashes sweep down against the cot.

_Then why do you not speak to me? _

_**I'm sad. **_

_Sad? _

_**Yes, Trinitas, sad. Like I want to cry.**_

Though she had felt and expressed the emotion, Trinity had never known the name behind it. Emotions were not her specialty. Especially something like sadness, only bitterness and self-hate seeped through her veins, those were the only feelings Evalgine gifted her with.

_**You felt the same when Boromir died. **_

_Was that not pain? _

_**Sadness comes after pain. **_

Trinity moved her head to the side, staring at the broken necklace on the floor.

_Something comes after pain? _

Evalgine laughed kindly.

_**Yes, love, there is something after pain. Did I not tell you?**_

Shame colored her creation's cheeks. Being vacant to humiliation, she returned to the one thing she understood clearly, antipathy.

_You never told me anything. Never warned me. Just hurled me into life with a prayer to save yourself. _

Evalgine did not answer, for it was true, and fell back into her 'saddened,' blissfully silent state.


	18. A True Emotion and The Final Battle

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

OoOoOoOoOo 

"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf told them.

Apparently, she had missed much, and stayed locked in her room longer than expected, for Pippin had nearly met an early end. According to young Merry, his kinsman had wanted another peek at the black orb from Saruman's robe ("He's always got to look," he had exclaimed in utter annoyance) and seen something of complete evil. The force, Merry explained, nearly killed both him and Aragorn. If it were not for Gandalf, Pippin would not have stood in the throne room that very afternoon, watching the floor guiltily as the wizard told them the tale.

"A fool," Gandalf continued with an exasperated glance at the Hobbit, "but an honest fool he remains. He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring."

Gimli exhaled loudly.

The wizard shook his head, "We've been strangely fortunate. Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron moves to strike the city of Minas Tirith. His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing. He knows the heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still, strength enough perhaps to challenge him. Sauron fears this. He will not risk the people of Middle-Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Trinity to the ground, before he sees a king return to the throne of Men."

Aragorn looked away.

"If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war."

Théoden, who had been silent until that moment, finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Tell me," he replied with a slightly haughty air, "why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?"

They all looked at him sternly. Even Gimli glared.

"What do we owe Gondor?"

"Then you would let them die?" Trinity asked simply, "You would let the world of Men fall for the sake of petty revenge?"

The king did not meet her eye.

"I will go," Aragorn said quietly.

"No," the wizard snapped.

The ranger's stance straightened, "They must be warned!"

"They will be," said Gandalf soothing before walking over to him.

"You much come to Minas Tirith by another road," he ordered in a whisper, "Follow the river. Look to the black ships."

He turned slowly, addressing the others once again.

"Understand this: things are not in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith and I won't be going alone."

OoOoOoOoOo 

"Are you alright?"

Trinity looked to the Dwarf with surprise. She did not know that anyone else had been outside with her. That and she had never seen him as a confident. He always evaded emotional scenes. Hastily, she attempted to make sense out of her jumbled thoughts.

She frowned, "I think I am worried."

Gimli nodded in understanding.

" 'Bout Pippin?"

Gandalf has chosen the Hobbit to ride with him to Gondor, leaving a very distraught Merry behind.

This time, it was her who nodded, "And Frodo. And us. My kin. Everything and everyone."

He leaned over and patted her thigh, as it was the closest thing he could reach on her body. In return, she gave him a ghostly smile and a pat on the head. Normally, the Dwarf found this demeaning, and many a time he had threatened to cut off the offensive limb of the antagonist. But with her, he had come to expect it. And, he had to admit, she was rather pretty. Prettier, perhaps, than the redheaded one he found so captivating.

"Mustn't worry yourself," he answered, pulling the infamous pipe from his belt, his way of showing compassion.

She smirked a little, watching him stuff the tobacco inside, and lit it with an anticipating grin. Her brow creased as he first handed it to her, something he never did. Always, he was the first to taste the smoke. Her mouth opened slightly, but he overrode her.

"Thought you could use it more than me," he clarified, "today, leastways."

Just as she raised it to her lips, Scarlette came bounding outside.

"_Trinity_!" she exclaimed in scolding, blue eyes wide.

"Fuck," Trinity mumbled, shoving the wooden instrument back into Gimli's hands with speed.

The Latina put her hands on her hips, standing directly in front of the pair, "You said you quit!"

"I did quit!" she growled.

"Like fuck you did! What the hell are you doin' then?"

Trinity looked a little taken aback, and looked to the pipe in Gimli's hands for help.

It offered none.

"I just," she started, then decided upon a different approach, "You know what? Bite my ass! _You_ are the one who was drunk last night, trying to have sex with whoever stumbled across your path, truly la hija de la senorita Rowe!"

Two red patches formed on Scarlette cheeks, Gimli watched them with large eyes.

Trinity regretted those words and her short temper.

"Oh fuck you! Mi madre es una ramera…big goddam deal! Like you're _so_ much better, pumping your veins full of shit, screwing other people's husbands, lying and killing!"

Trinity's lips thinned over her teeth, "You said you forgave me."

"How can I forgive someone who never apologizes?"

_I'm sorry._

The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she could not press them through her lips and Scarlette was standing there, watching her expectantly. When she finally realized that she would not receive the admission of guilt she so craved, her sky blue eyes narrowed.

"Maybe Faith's right," she said in a dangerous tone, "Maybe you don't a shit about any of us. And maybe…"

She drew a shaky breath, eyes shining with tears.

"Maybe when we get back…it's best if you just go. Maybe you should stay out of our lives from now on. Find your own life and quit fucking up everyone else's."

Gimli could not believe how well Trinity took the disownment of her own kin. Throughout the entire ordeal, she stood there with unreadable eyes, waiting patiently for the appropriate ending. Any other woman he knew would have either cried or pummeled Scarlette by then.

"I mean, Jesus Christ, Trin. Dezaria's terrified of you, Faith can't fucking stand you, and I…I just can't put up with your shit anymore. In case you haven't noticed, I've got my own problems to deal with."

Both Trinity and Gimli dully noted that Destiny was not mentioned.

And then, Scarlette did something appalling.

She hit Trinity, slapped her hard across the face, and Trinity took it unflinchingly as her punishment. A perfect palm print flared red for a moment, and then faded back into the pale flesh of her cheek. As Trinity watched her friend stomp away, she wished that mark would have stayed there forever, a true testament to who Trinity Night really was, and everything she deserved.

"Well that was mighty interesting," the Dwarf muttered.

She did not answer, and left to find another punishment.

Left to find a certain Elf.

She found him easily within the keep, talking to Éomer and Destiny, smiling politely and nodding after each pause they left him. Too reluctant to step out of the darkness, she lingered beneath the shadow of one pillar, studying him until at last he stepped away, presumably to find Aragorn. Though, in reality, she suspected, to escape. She caught him easily in on of the passages, and surprised him by wrapping her arms around his waist, burying her face in his back.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas was not sure what to think about his new development, the woman clinging to him, her scent, her taste lingering on his tongue. In his mind, her former words echoed from the night before:

"_This can never happen again." _

"Trinity," he breathed, preparing to asses the situation.

Her lips found the tip of his ear, and she slowly tugged it into her mouth, sucking slowly. A moan escaped him as she bit down lightly, finding the most sensitive spot on his body. He led her to his room, kissing and touching her the entire way, unable to keep his hands off her, until at last they fell onto his bed. Catching both of her wrists in one hand, he pressed his lips against either pulse point before giving her the sweetest punishment.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity's head lay on his bare stomach and she traced lazy circles around his navel with one finger. Without looking, she could tell he was not smiling, not at all pleased with the fact that she had succeeded in bedding him once again. Once again, he had been unfaithful to his true love.

"Legolas," she said in a hushed tone.

"What is it, Trinity?" his voice was filled with a sort of frigid formality.

She moved to rest her chin just above his navel, her belly between his legs. Against her stomach, she felt him growing hard. Her chance to further her punishment announced itself.

"Am I a whore?"

"Hmm?" he managed to hum while struggling to contain his arousal.

Her head tilted to the side, a sweetly uncertain look on her face, "Am I a whore?"

"No," he answered quickly, "Why would you think that?"

_Because you called me a whore. _

"What would you do, if I disappeared forever?"

She watched his face grow uneasy, "What?"

Trinity kissed his abdomen, letting her tongue flick against the skin. Suck suck, moan moan. His fingers ran through her hair.

"What if I gave you back your Evalgine? What if I receded back into the darkest depths of my mind, relinquishing all control to her?"

_What if I simply ceased to exist, Legolas, would you care? _

"You would do such a thing?" he asked with a frown, touching her cheek.

At that moment, she would have done anything he requested.

"When you were in love with Evalgine," she confided, "I was in love with someone else. The one who gave me the necklace, who told me he loved me. I was his Dove, his treasure and our relationship began two years before your Evalgine came into your life."

She hid her face against his stomach, taking in his scent.

"But I never made love to him…because he disappeared a few months prior to your arrival. And she met you, and I was jealous. She let you have her before she knew she loved you, she trusted you, even though I had requested that she keep our virginity intact until my lover and I had the right moment…Legolas, when you make love to one of us, when you touch one of us, the other is fully aware of what is going on. It's as though we are there…but cannot move. In a way, when you took Evalgine with her consent, you raped me."

"Why are you saying this?" he sounded weak.

_I think I love you. _

She shrugged a little, not looking up, and continued with the tale instead: "When Evalgine killed our body, he was the one who brought us back from the grave. As punishment, he forced me to live without him for four years. Almighty, I was pathetic then…he was my soul, the only thing I still had to anticipate during my life. I spent those years thinking of him, pushing this body to its limits of survival, because I had to see him again. From that time until the day we saw each other in Rivendell, Evalgine was completely silent."

Still, she was punishing herself, forcing herself to speak against the bile that rose in her throat. Eventually, she would say his name, to make the hurt even deeper.

But for now, the pain of knowing she loved the Elf and understanding he did not love her in return, was enough.

OoOoOoOoOo 

He could not listen to it anymore, could not stand to know that his kiss had not been Evalgine's first, that she had unwillingly been forced to kiss and touch another while Trinity controlled the body. And, painfully, he admitted that he had done the same. He tore himself away from her and out of the bed. She did not watch him as he pulled up his leggings, but spoke quickly as he laced them, as though she deeply wanted him to stay.

"My lover was not a Man."

Legolas froze, watching her body on the bed. Her back against the open air, the scars and ink showed clearly, and the quilt rested peacefully just above her backside, barely covering the curve of her hips.

"He was an Angel and his name…was…Thaniel."

OoOoOoOoOo 

Her shoulders quivered as she spoke his name aloud, out of memory and fright. Images flashed through her mind, him touching her, kissing her, loving her. His dark eyes, brunette hair pulled neatly into a tress, smiling white rows of white even teeth. Large, white wings protruding from his shoulders. He was her savior. Her deliverance from evil, from Evalgine's father.

"He could heal people with a single touch, and ultimately, I think that was my main attraction to him. He saved me."

She heard the unmistakable sound of a shirt sliding over Legolas' skin.

"He wanted us to be together for eternity, not just the pathetically short span of my lifetime. I was young and naïve and he was seasoned in his afterlife and extremely intelligent, a dangerous combination. We both planned my demise, and when I reached nineteen, we would be with each other forever in death."

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas felt a little ill as he listened, and tried to shut his ears to the soothing sound of her voice.

"My life was unsatisfying, and when he asked my permission to die, I gave it to him, knowing fully that my death would be Evalgine's as well. Revenge, for her giving herself to you after only two weeks, when I had been with my lover for two years and restrained myself."

He reached for his boots.

"He hired men to kill me, and on my birthday, led me away from civilization and to the life beyond this."

He fastened his belt.

"For many years we lived in bliss, but my love was a soldier. And so when the war began, he was called to fight just as any other Angel would have been."

Laced up his bracers.

"While he was gone…I found myself lost…and I…found another's love."

Again, his eyes focused on her, trying not to be enticed by her painful words and beautiful figure.

"My lover returned, and discovered my mistake."

Legolas moved toward the door.

"He slit my throat."

And escaped.

OoOoOoOoOo 

He kept walking, hoping to make his way into the keep before she could find him again. However, he had made it barely halfway before the distinctive sound of Trinity's footsteps sounded behind him.

"Legolas!" she called in a voice thick with emotion, "Please! Wait!"

He pursed his lips and kept walking, ignoring her even as she worked her way to his side.

"Please," she begged, tugging on his sleeve like a child, "Come back. I love you."

In anger, he whirled on her and, gripping her upper arms, slammed her against the stone wall. She flinched at the hatred in his touch, tears cascading down her cheeks like twin rivers.

He tried to swallow his temper, but to no avail.

"What do you want from me, Trinity?" his eyes flashed heatedly.

"Legolas," she whispered, reaching to touch his face.

He pinned her wrist against the wall, squeezing the fragile bone until it shifted in his hand, "Enough. Do you not realize how difficult this is? Knowing your history, knowing that now I cannot imagine myself with any other woman but _you_? Your touches, your kisses, are my soul."

Her face crumbled.

"You're hurting me," she whimpered.

Trinity would never say such a thing, pain was her second nature. At once, he felt sickened, and his eyes softened as he released her.

"Evalgine," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, "I'm sorry, so sorry."

She sniffed loudly in answer. Overwhelmed with guilt, Legolas wiped her tears away one by one, until her cheeks were dry.

"Are you alright?" he asked her quietly.

She did not reply.

He swallowed nervously, "Please, I did not mean to hurt you…"

She would not look at him.

"I love you."

"You love _her_," she said finally.

Incredulity colored her tone.

Now it was him that could not respond.

"Well," she muttered, eyes brimming with fresh tears, "isn't this just lovely? You love her, and she loves you, and now _I_ am the outsider!"

His brow puckered, "She loves me?"

"What does it matter? Was I not going to be your wife? Do you still love _me_, Legolas Greenleaf?"

"I will always love you," he whispered, shaking his head.

She kissed him then, mouth open, allowing his tongue to enter. He obliged, running his over the smooth surface of her teeth, the roof of her mouth. His fingers skimmed the lace of her corset, though instead of untying them as any other male in his position would have, he tied it. With a smile, his fingers followed the curve of her breast before reaching around neck and unclasped the necklace around his neck. He dropped the chain in her waiting hand, watching the silver slide lusciously against the pale skin. The hand formed a fist, and her knuckles turned white because she knew the symbolism behind this.

He was not asking to marry her again.

He was asking for consent to love Trinity.

OoOoOoOoOo 

She awoke in her room, curled in a ball on her cot. Sitting up, she stared blearily around her, trying to piece together what had happened. Legolas, sex, secrets, she recalled that, but how had she gotten here? When had Evalgine taken control? Her eyes focused on the ground around her, and she scratched her head as she searched for the broken silver chain on the floor. Two things confused her: one, the odd feel of the ring on her finger, which she stared at for several moments, and two, the fact that the necklace had gone missing. Strange.

_Evalgine?_

**_Yes?_**

_Did you take my necklace?_

**_Of course not. If I had, you would feel it._**

Trinity frowned.

_Did Legolas? _

**_No…_**

_Then perhaps Scarlette, or Faith…? _

_**Your door was locked, the key was hidden in your boot.** _

An icy feeling rose in her stomach.

_Oh…fuck. _

It seemed Thaniel, her Angel, her betrayer, had returned.

OoOoOoOoOo 

The throne room was not quite loud, but not silent either. A few people talked, King Théoden and a few others crowded around a map, Éomer among them, with Destiny on his arm as always. Legolas leaned against a column, staring sullenly at the ground as though in deep thought. Trinity tried her hardest not to break, and kept her face emotionless. The doors flew open, and an eager Aragorn ran inside.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith!" he cried like a madman, "The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

Théoden watched him for several moments, collecting his thoughts.

"And Rohan will answer," he replied at last.

"Muster the Rohirrim," he ordered, and Éomer gave him a quick bow before turning to his love.

With a chaste kiss, he left Destiny as the preparations for war began. Trinity walked over to her, placing her hand on her friend's shoulder. The rest of her kin ignored her, as Faith's words sunk into their minds. Only Miss Motto seemed immune to her Southern poison.

"Guess this means you're leaving us yet again," Destiny said with concern in her tone.

Trinity could not smile, "Keep everyone safe, for the love of the Almighty."

When Destiny looked at her with confusion, she leaned in to place a confidential whisper in the woman's ear.

"Take no chances. Thaniel's back."

OoOoOoOoOo 

The clamor of Edoras was great as they prepared themselves yet again for battle. Trinity mounted her own horse quickly, checking to assure herself that all her weapons were easily accessible. Her horse trotted next to Legolas and Gimli, and she listened in on their conversation.

"Horse-men," Gimli was saying, "I wish I could muster a legion of Dwarves, fully armed and filthy."

She felt Legolas' eyes like a brand, "Your kinsmen may have no need to ride to war. I fear war already marches on their own lands."

She could not meet his gaze.

"Now is the hour," Éomer called to the soldiers around him, "Riders of Rohan, oaths you have taken. Now, fulfill them all. To lord and land!"

With the short speech made, he gave forth one last cry before leading them out into the distance. Even Merry's pony moved with frightening speed.

OoOoOoOoOo 

As they rode through the encampment, soldiers yelled hails and statistics to their king. How many men had come from each kingdom.

"Where are the riders from Snowbourn?" Théoden asked them.

"None have come, my lord," they answered.

He did not look very pleased, though none of the Fellowship dwelt on it. Except, perhaps Aragorn, who later consoled the king once they were settled. Legolas, Gimli, and Trinity chose to wander, and noted with wonder that the horses seemed uneasy.

"The horses are restless," Legolas observed, "and the men are quiet."

Éomer explained, "They nervous in the shadow of the mountain."

They looked to see a path cut between the stone, mocking them silently.

"That road there," Gimli nodded to the offending gap, "where does that lead?"

It was Legolas who answered, "It is the road to the Dimholt, the door under the mountain."

"Not who venture there ever return," Éomer confirmed, "That mountain is evil."

Trinity smiled discreetly.

OoOoOoOoOo 

"_I love you, Trinitas. You will always be my Dove. I want you to understand one thing now, in your final hours of this life; if I did not kill you know the Elder's would have." He moved his lips to her ear, whispering. "Pray for me, Dove, pray for me." _

_And it was over, as the blade cut into her throat without resistance._

She heard the swishing of cloth, and smelled the woodland scent. A body flattened itself next to hers, and she gripped her blanket as his arm slid around her waist.

"You are restless," Legolas breathed in her ear.

Trinity did not answer, and his breath ticked her cheek as he spoke again.

"Perhaps you are fearful of the mountain as well?"

He was teasing her.

She smiled, though her head was turned away from him, so he could not see.

"It was only a nightmare," she said quietly.

His hand brushed her thigh.

"Nightmare," he exhaled, "or memory?"

"They are one in the same."

He kissed her temple, gently, sweetly.

Trinity inhaled sharply, "Why are you here?"

"Why can you not sleep?"

"I asked you first."

He laughed, a sweetly melodious sound.

Legolas pressed his lips to her forehead, a smile on them, "I am here, because I love you."

Trinity sat up suddenly, staring at him with suspicious eyes, "What of Evalgine?"

His fingers followed the curve of her jaw, and she willed herself to pull back, but found with irritation that she could not bring herself to.

"I loved Evalgine," he replied, "and I will always love her. But from the first moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you, and that, meleth nin, was before I knew Evalgine resided in your mind. All this time, I wanted you, and was too blind to see it."

He kissed her, fingers in her hair, body aligned with hers, his heart connected with hers. Hesitantly, she returned the embrace, mouth moving against his. They broke apart finally, and she looked to him with a timid gaze. She did not believe him.

"Trinity," he whispered gently, tracing her lips with his thumb the way he had done in Edoras just days ago, "Manen pelithon le peded i le melon_?_"

She sighed, touching her mouth to his for a moment, eyes clouded with torment, "I want to trust you, but you must understand, my life has been a fount of distrust and self-loathing. Any other emotion is almost completely foreign to me."

He cupped her face in his hands, unable to keep them away from her body. Unwilling to release her.

"Now, sweetling, it is my turn to receive an answer. Why do you not sleep?"

Trinity avoided his gaze, "Because I am afraid of who might be there when I wake up."

His eyes followed hers.

"What have you to fear, lirimaer?"

"I cannot tell you."

"And why not?"

"Bad things happen to those who tell."

His brow creased, and he looked away from her for a moment.

"Do not ride out tomorrow," he requested softly.

Her lips parted, "What?"

"I cannot see you harmed," he gripped her hands, bringing them to his lips; "I know of your ability to heal, but seeing you hurt…do not ask me to experience it."

She shook her head from side to side slowly.

"I am going to war, Master Greenleaf, whether by your will or not. And if I am injured, I will heal. I'm immortal, Legolas, if even I took a blade to my wrist at this very moment – "

" – Don't say such things!"

" – It would heal in seconds. It is my curse, my burden, to live forever. I am a warrior, first and foremost, and no Man, Elf, or Angel will tell me what wars I can and cannot fight for!"

An odd smile crossed his features, further strengthening the line of his jaw. His eyes shown with a distressed happiness.

"Somehow I knew you would say this, yet it brings me little peace. Ni trastannen le."

She leaned against him, "It is I that should be worried about you. But I know better. Le gû-vaethor vaen. You will survive."

Fingers spread into her hair, lightly caressing the scalp.

"Garo bost," he whispered quietly.

Resting her head in his lap, she obeyed, and for the first time in many years, she slept without troubled thoughts.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas continued to stroke her hair after her breathing grew deep and even. His mind whirled, thinking about her mostly, about the quest, about Aragorn's future. It was too much, too fast. But holding Trinity, touching her, made every overwhelming feeling seem less and less important, it was as if the Valar itself wanted them to be together. His fingers touched the bare flesh of her cheek and he felt the strange sensation as if he were being pulled into something. As though her mind had sucked his entire body inside it.

_It took him several moments to comprehend the situation. He was no longer in the encampment, but in a candlelit room. In two little beds slept two little girls, their hair raven colored, and their faces peaceful in rest. One girl looked as though she were only a toddler, and the other just an adolescent. The eldest he recognized quickly, the shape of her face, the parting of her lips, proclaimed his lover. His Trinity, or perhaps Evalgine at this time, he was not quite sure which. The toddler must have been her sister, whom Evalgine had spoken highly of so many years ago. Hession, he remembered, her name was Hession. _

_The peaceful scene was broken as the bedroom door creaked to life. It hurled open, and behind it stood the instantly recognizable, grotesque face of Evalgine's father, Wamyric, and a few heavily armored figures. White hot rage blurred Legolas' vision for but a moment, then subsided. Wamyric motioned toward the others, who stepped into the room. Evalgine sat up suddenly, and within her eyes, he saw the change begin as she gave the body up to Trinity. One figure grasped Hession from her bed, and another grabbed young Trinity by the ankle, dragging her from the bed. _

_She began to scream, clawing at the blankets, and he watched in horror as tears streamed down her face. The armored one pulled her away with a violent yank, throwing her to the floor. A sharp cry caused him to look elsewhere, and he saw the image of Hession struggling against her captor. Her little legs kicked helplessly as he lifted her off the ground. Wamyric grabbed what he thought to his eldest daughter's arm and hurled her to her feet. Trinity stumbled, but caught herself, and whirled on him. _

"_Let her go!" she screamed, fear replaced by rage. _

_Wamyric grinned, and grabbed the girl's wrist. Into her clasp, he worked a small dagger, and forced her fingers to curl around the hilt. Trinity free hand scratched at his, and though blood ran from the wounds she inflicted, he would not release her. He forced the tip against Hession's belly. Her tiny shoulders shook with sobs._

"_Kill her," he hissed in Trinity's ear. _

_Violently, she shook her head, "No!" _

_Her nails left red marks in his hand. _

"_Come now, daughter," he said sweetly, as if in playful scolding, "You want to be a fighter, do you not?" _

_The toddler's silver eyes were wide with fear. _

"_Ebal!" she screamed, her voice far too young for this amount of abuse. _

_Legolas ran toward them, desperately trying to save the girls from his sadistic nature. With vigor, he swung his fists, but hit nothing, and was forced to watch in horror as Wamyric drew a little blood from his youngest daughter. _

"_Stop it," Trinity screamed, her hand prying at his fingers. _

"_She is a distraction to you, Evalgine," her father said in that viciously charming tone, "Warriors do not need families, or love, they care for nothing and no one." _

"_Please," Trinity gasped, "Please, oh, please, Dada!" _

_He forced to her. The blade met Hession's stomach, and the child screamed so loud it could have woken the dead. Trinity stared disbelievingly at her hand as the crimson blood began to dampen her fingers. Wamyric released her, and let her fall to the ground, resentment echoing within his eyes and she crumbled, sobbing freely into her bloodstained hands. The other figure dropped Hession's corpse and walked to his king's side. Through trembling fingers, Trinity peeked at the body. Legolas' strength wavered as she moved to her dead sister's side, and began to cup large quantities of blood in her hands, pouring them onto Hession's wound. _

"_I take it back," she screamed at the ceiling, "I take it back, I take it back!" _

"_You are a weapon, child. This should have been your easiest kill. Look at you, you are pathetic." _

_Trinity ignored him, trying to rekindle the life within the toddler, "Wake up Hession. Please, no, please wake up." _

_More blood dripped from her hands onto the hole in the small abdomen. Gray eyes stared unseeingly. _

"_Savor this moment, girl, for never again will you be capable of ordinary human emotion." _

_Legolas felt the sudden urge to vomit._

From outside this horrid place, the Elf's hand pulled away from Trinity's flesh, and he felt the strange pulling sensation once again, until at last he blinked down at his lover's sleeping form. Still, he felt sick and found that he trembled from the experience. Careful not to make contact with her bare skin again, he laid her beside him, and pulled the blanket over her. He wanted to kiss her forehead, her cheek, but feared the very thought, and instead pressed his lips against the curve of her arm through the quilt. He left then, to locate Aragorn and eventually make his way into the path of the Dead.

OoOoOoOoOo 

The sun burst into the tent, uninvited and proud. Trinity pressed her hand to her eyes for a moment before sitting up. Glancing down at the spot beside her, she frowned, as she noted that it smelled so much like Legolas. Memories from the former night flitted through her skull, settling deep within her.

_He loves me. _

_**Yes, he does.** _

She flinched at the sound of Evalgine's voice.

_Ebal…I'm so sorry. _

_**He knows. About Hession. About how you killed her.** _

_Wamyric forced me. _

_**He forced you to do much more than that.** _

_Shut up. _

Trinity escaped from her tent to the camp, watching the men prepare the horses, and found Éowyn donning armor herself. A crooked smile met her features as she walked over to the woman. At first, Trinity did not recognize her, but the eyes gave her away.

"Hide your gaze better," Trinity ordered her softly, "Do not let it soften, or they will know it is you."

Eowyn looked to her in surprise, "Trinity! You startled me!"

"Where is Legolas?"

"You do not know?" asked the woman in general wonder.

"Obviously not."

"They left for the mountain pass late last night, they've abandoned us."

Her jaw clenched, "They would never to that to us. If they have left, as you say, it is because they saw hope elsewhere."

She looked down in shame as Trinity turned away.

OoOoOoOoOo 

They mounted the horses, ready to ride out and meet the final terrors of Middle-Earth, ready to stand their ground. Théoden had twice tried to convince her to stay back, but Trinity refused.

"This is as much my war as yours," she had told him, "I began with the Fellowship and damn it that is the way I will end it."

"We must ride light and swift," the king told both her and Éomer presently, "It is a long road ahead. And man and beast much reach the end with the strength to fight."

They rode through the camp, studying the soldiers, when a particularly small one caught Théoden's eye.

"Little Hobbits do not belong in war, Master Meriadoc," he told the Hobbit.

Suited in his own armor, Merry looked up, "All my friends have gone to battle. I would be ashamed to be left behind."

Trinity exchanged a look with the king, but he shook his head.

"It is a three-day gallop to Minas Tirith," he said, "And none of my riders can bear you as a burden."

Merry was relentless, "I want to fight."

Théoden turned his gaze to the rode ahead.

"I will say no more."

As he rode forward, Trinity followed, glancing back long enough to see the Hobbit pulled onto the horse of Éowyn, who had taken a liking to the Halfling. She grinned at them.

"Form up!" Éomer called to the company, "Move out!"

The hoofs of many horses beat against the grass, turning it to dirt.

"Ride!" Théoden shouted with pride, "Ride now to Gondor!"

OoOoOoOoOo 

Their rests were short and few, done only when time could afford it. Each time, Trinity found herself with Éowyn and Merry, grateful for their accommodating nature. The other men were not so pleased to have a woman fight, even if she was a member of the Fellowship, and so on that ground, she connected with them.

"Take heart, Merry," Éowyn said to the Hobbit, "It will soon be over."

She spoke with a lower voice to avoid suspicion, and Trinity had to admit, she was doing rather well, pretending to be a man.

Merry chewed at his bread, "My lady…you and fair and brave and have much to live for and many who love you."

Éowyn looked at him, the softness returning to her eyes. It vanished when Trinity gave her a scolding look.

"I know it is too late to turn aside," the Halfling continued, "I know there is not much point now in hopin'. If I were a knight of Rohan, capable of great deeds, but I'm not. I'm a Hobbit. And I know I can't save Middle-Earth. I just want to help my friends."

Éowyn began to walk toward him; Trinity slid her arm around his shoulders.

"Frodo. Sam. Pippin. More than anythin' I wish I could see them again."

"You are capable of great deeds," Trinity whispered to him.

He smiled sadly as Éomer yelled above the noise:

"Prepare to move out!"

"Make haste," King Théoden added, "We ride through the night."

Merry scrambled up, setting his helm on his straw colored curls.

"To battle," Éowyn breathed, pulling her own helm over her silvery strands of hair.

"To battle," answered the Hobbit.

Trinity smiled, "To battle."

"To battle," said a soft voice behind them.

They turned to see the red tresses of little Dezaria Johnson poking out from under Rohan armor.

Trinity's face paled.

OoOoOoOoOo 

It was far too late to send her back, Trinity told herself. And besides, who was she to tell this girl what to do? After all the mistakes she had made, she could never judge anyone as harshly as she judged herself. Dezaria had every right to ride into battle, as did she, and Merry, and Éowyn. The horn of Rohan blew loudly, shattering the sounds of battle ahead, and they rode over the hill, stopping just at the top, and stared at the swarm of Orcs that attacked Gondor. There were thousands.

Éowyn put her arm around Merry, "Courage, Merry. Courage for our friends."

Trinity looked over to Dezaria from her horse; she watched her young face pale beneath the helm.

"Éomer," shouted Théoden, "take your éored down the left flank."

"Flank ready."

"Gamling, follow the king's banner down the center."

His horse sped past them, Éowyn looked away quickly.

"Gimbold, take your company right after you pass the wall."

Excitement and dread rose into Trinity's heart.

"Forth, and fear no darkness! Arise, Arise, Riders of Théoden! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered, a sword-day, a red day, ere the sun rises!"

The spears dropped in the front rank, the Orcs kneeled, copying their movement.

"Whatever happens," Éowyn whispered to Merry, "stay with me. I'll look after you."

Trinity reached over and squeezed Dezaria's hand, before pulling a knife from its sheath.

Théoden began to tap each spear with his sword, screaming, "Ride now! Ride now! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!"

"Death!" he shouted, raising his blade in the air.

"Death!" the entire army replied in unison.

"Death!" Éowyn screeched.

"Death!" cried Merry.

"Death!" hollered Dezaria.

"Death," Trinity whispered.

Théoden turn back to them. Back to his army.

"Forth Eorlingas!"

Horns sounded.

And then, they charged, crashing into the army with little or not care, dying at random, killing at random, as the run rose blood red behind them.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity's horse trampled over her foes, and she hacked at them with her knives, energized by the speech, by the anticipation of killing every disgusting Orc with her own two hands. She was shocked to see Éowyn and Merry hold their own. Even Dezaria, who had never held once held a knife in her hands attacked with ease.

And then, a steady thump reached their ears, the sound of giant creature's footsteps.

A whole new enemy revealed itself.

"Re-form the line!" Theoden ordered in panic, "Re-form the line!"

The creatures started toward them, huge, and painted, with large tusks and soldiers on their backs.

"Sound the charge!" Theoden was shouting, "Take them head-on!"

"It won't work!" Trinity screamed at him over the noise, "They will only kill more of us!"

He did not hear her, or he did not listen, and they charged to almost certain death. Hundreds of soldiers were killed just by the creatures moving their heads, and they tumbled to the ground, their guts splayed out as they were crushed by giant feet. Trinity watched in shock as Éowyn's horse fell, and Merry went with it. One of the creatures hit the ground, crushing the poor animal to death. Éowyn recovered quickly, slashing and hacking at the Orcs that surrounded her.

A spear hit Trinity's horse in the side, and she let out a short scream before it threw her to the ground. She felt her shoulder break from the impact, and shuddered as waves of pain flittered through her body. But she picked up her fallen knives and fought, looking for Dezaria and Éowyn and the rest of her friends as she did.

Théoden was shouting again, "Rally to me! To me!"

And then the Nazgûl attacked. It bit down on Théoden's horse, tossing in the air and to the ground carelessly. It rolled a few feet, knocking little Dezaria off her horse, until at last it halted. Dead, with the king pinned under it. The Ringwraith cooed to its terrible creature as Trinity ran to help the child.

"Feast on his flesh."

Éowyn rushed forward, "I will kill you if you touch him."

"Do not come between the Nazgûl and his prey."

The creature tried to attacked, but in two even hacks, Éowyn cut off the damned creatures head, and they watched as the body slumped to the ground. This was the last time Dezaria and Trinity saw of her, before they were dragged into battle once again but eager Orcs. Many times, Trinity felt the sting of metal in her sides, her throat, and chest, but kept fighting. The wounds would heal, she told herself, but if Dezaria was killed, she would never forgive herself. She looked over to see a strange green mist covering the battlefield.

_The green plague? _

Inside her mind, Evalgine laughed. When Dezaria saw her smiling, she demanded Trinity explain, so she repeated her thought to the child.

Dezaria smiled at the mist, "The green death flavor!"

Trinity started to smile at the old NyQuil joke, but it faded as an Orc's blade found Dezaria's shoulder. Her face went blank as her body fell to the ground. Once again, Trinity was the cause of her potential death. She should have kept quiet.

The Orc raised it's sword to cut again.

"No!" she screamed, lunging herself at it, "Keep away from my daughter!"

Her knife pierced its throat, but it kept coming, until at last an arrow found its back. Azure eyes held hers for a moment, but she broke the gaze, and rushed to Dezaria instead. Trinity sat her up, pulled off the helm, which was sticky with her sweat. With relief, she watched the girl's chest move just a little and Trinity wept for joy, holding her tightly.

"My baby," she whispered over and over again into the curling red locks, "My baby, my baby."

Aragorn's hand met her shoulder and squeezed.


	19. The End Of All Things

**Disclaimer**: I own only the characters of my imagination: Trinity, Dezaria, Destiny, Faith, and Scarlette. The rest, I'm sure you'll recognize as the property of the Tolkien Estate.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Dezaria had been taken by healers, so they could cure the wound in her shoulder, which left only Aragorn and Trinity. Aragorn led her away after the battle, to the place where the green plague, the death flavor stood. Legolas turned around slowly at the sound of their footsteps, and his smile widened at the sight of his love. Without thought, he ran to her, burying his fingers in her hair and kissing her with vigor unmatched by any other being. The others watched in surprise, expect Gimli, who grinned knowingly. ("I knew it all along," he would claim later with a haughty air). They broke apart, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Bastard," she gasped after she caught her breath, "you left without telling me."

.

Her fingers twisted in the straps of his quiver, and her body trembled from exhaustion. Cerulean eyes held hers, and he knew exactly what she thought and would not say aloud.

"_I was worried." _

He kissed her again, easing his mouth over hers gently, and smiled as he felt her arms wrap around his neck. Somewhere in the distance, Aragorn clapped slowly, mockingly. They both turned their heads to the crowd, embarrassed at their lack of control.

"It is safer to wait," the future king grinned at them, "I believe I speak for everyone when I say that we'd rather not see you frisk here and now."

Legolas only smiled and Trinity did what they all thought to be completely impossible.

She blushed.

"Wanker," she answered, but obliged, pulling Legolas to the spot where they stood.

The King of the Dead stared at Aragorn evenly, "Release us."

"Bad idea," Gimli grunted, "Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the face they're dead."

"You gave us your word."

Aragorn straightened, "I hold your oath fulfilled. Go. Bet at peace."

And the entire army turned into mere dust in the wind.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity spent the night at Dezaria's bedside, and Legolas, refusing to leave her presence, stayed with her. Together, they watched the girl's sleeping face, the bandage on her shoulder. Legolas' hand tightened around hers for a moment. She looked at him with saddened eyes.

"What draws you to this child?" he asked her softly.

She stared at the girl's sleeping face, "She is my daughter."

"Your daughter?"

His tone rendered shock and she nodded slowly.

"How is this possible? What about Destiny's sister?"

Trinity sighed deeply.

"I wanted to keep her. I did," she whispered, "But I could not. Every moment she spent with me forced her into more and more danger. Margaret had two boys, and she and her husband always wanted another child."

Her voice caught, and she swallowed her tears as she forced herself to go on. No more secrets. No more.

_**That's a good girl. **_

"I thought it was for the best. I wanted to protect her…but I…I couldn't stay away. I could not let her be."

She bit her lip, shook her head against the onslaught of pain.

"I loved her too much. So Margaret told me I could be her nanny…told me I could stay with them until I felt I could finally leave."

"After all," she said in a mocking and bitter tone, "what harm could I do?"

Legolas rose her hand to his lips, brushing them against the cold skin there.

"You and her husband," he whispered knowingly.

She closed her eyes tightly, "Destiny must have told you."

He did not reply, confirming the accusation.

"Who is her father?"

Trinity looked at the girl.

"Thaniel," she said brokenly.

"He returned?"

She fell silent, hiding within herself again.

_**Just tell him, Trinitas, he wants to know. **_

_He cannot. _

No, he could not. Because if he knew, then Thaniel would discover a reason to kill him as well. If she stayed silent, if she told no one else but Destiny, then perhaps he would only come for her. Perhaps the rest of her friends could live.

She rose to take her leave, slipping away from him slowly, hating the weakening feeling growing in her heart.

"Do not tell her. She does not know."

OoOoOoOoOo 

The next morning, they all stood in Gondor, plotting their next move. The remaining Fellowship stayed together, Gimli, Trinity, Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, and Éomer joined them, still mourning the death of his uncle, the great King Théoden. The loss of many great soldiers rang through their ears.

"Frodo has passed beyond my sight," Gandalf told them, "The darkness is deepening."

Aragorn stood with his back to him, arms folded across his chest.

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it," he stated firmly.

The wizard shook his head, "It's only a matter of time."

Legolas rested his head atop Trinity's, his arms around her waist. Since the night before, they seemed inseparable, now that he knew her secret, her desire; she could deny him no more.

"He has suffered a defeat, yes," Gandalf continued, "but behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping."

Gimli exhaled smoke from the pipe, "Let 'em stay there. Let 'em rot! Why should we care?"

"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom. I've sent him to his death," the wizard's eyes were sorrowful.

"No," Aragorn interjected, "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoroth. He can give him that."

"How?" Gimli rumbled.

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

The Dwarf choked on his own tobacco and proceeded to throw a coughing fit while Éomer spoke.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms."

"Not for ourselves," Aragorn agreed, "But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moved."

Legolas smiled slightly, "A diversion."

"Certainty of death," Gimli announced, "small chance of success, what're we waitin' for?"

Trinity chuckled.

"Sauron will suspect a trap," Gandalf pointed out, "He will not take the bait."

Aragorn smirked, "Oh, I think he will."

OoOoOoOoOo 

"This is the end," Trinity said lowly, staring at the remaining Fellowship with a strange expression.

They smiled uneasily, not quite sure how to respond, or what to do in that moment. All were frightened, all were ready to defeat the foe, and claim peace over the land. Even she, who did not even reside there still, cared about the fate of Middle-Earth. In the ceremonial gesture, Gimli pulled out the pipe, and Aragorn revealed his, Gandalf joined in with a sad smile.

The Dwarf smiled at her, "One last little puff?"

She felt Legolas' hands on her hips as she took the wooden instrument into her hands. For a long while, she simply studied it, learning its every mark until she was sure that she might be able to recall it from memory.

"It is hard to believe," she told them, turning the pipe in her hands, "that this is it. _This_ is what decides the fate of Middle-Earth, and here I am, not even really a part of it, and fighting."

Legolas kissed her shoulder before stepping away and settling himself next to Gimli and Aragorn, next to his friends.

Gandalf inhaled deeply before answering. "My child, you are as much a part of it as any of us. Your kin are as well."

"I'll leave you all in the end," she murmured, lighting the pipe.

They already knew this, and a steady silence took place as smoke clouded the air of the throne room. Together, they awaited the storm.

OoOoOoOoOo 

They met the enemy that same day, with Aragorn leading them, just as it was always meant to be. Only a few horses were spared from the battle. Legolas and Gimli rode on one, Pippin and Gandalf on another, and Éomer and Merry, only Aragorn and Trinity rode alone. The rest marched, carrying banners and weapons, into their moment of truth. Into the hour of honor at the final war of their fate. They stood outside the gates of Mordor.

"Where are they?" Pippin breathed.

They rode up to the gates, the black metal creation, and stopped, challenging the creatures inside.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth!" Aragorn shouted, "Let justice be done upon him!"

Silence, until at last the doors creaked to life and slowly, slowly, they opened. A grotesque creature met them, a shadow of a man, with a mouth larger than anything Trinity had ever seen. From rows of yellow teeth, blood dripped onto chapped lips.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids thee welcome," said the deep voice before flashing them a macabre grin.

Aragorn's eyebrows rose and Legolas glared.

The creature looked around, "Is there any in this rout with authority to treat with me?"

"We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed," Gandalf spat, "Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

The loathsome thing took on a reminiscent air.

"Old Greybeard," it laughed disgustingly, "and Wamyric's daughter."

Trinity's slightly amused expression turned hateful.

"My, how you've grown. Pretty, pretty, little thing. I would like a round with you."

She hissed at it between clenched teeth, but it ignored her, moving on to the wizard once again.

"I have a token I was bidden to show thee."

He held up the mithril armor Frodo wore under his shirt for all to see, and tossed it away haphazardly. Merry and Pippin gasped as Gandalf caught the silver shirt with one hand.

"Frodo," Pippin said sadly.

Gandalf's jaw set, "Silence."

"No!" cried Merry, tears standing in his eyes.

"Silence!" Gandalf snapped at him

The creature's head turned to the Hobbit quickly, then back to them: "The Halfling was dear to thee, I see. Know that he suffered greatly as the hands of his host."

The smile came again, that foul grin.

"Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain?"

Gandalf passed the armor to Pippin, who pressed it to his chest, above his heart.

"And he did, Gandalf. He did."

Aragorn rode forward, lining his horse up with the thing's.

"And who is this?" it bubbled, blood growing thicker in its mouth, "Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade."

With a great cry, Aragorn removed its head from the body.

"Guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli said from his place behind Legolas.

"I do not believe it," Aragorn proclaimed suddenly, turning back to them, "I will not."

His eyes spoke volumes.

The gates opened again, and this time, the Orcs began to march toward them.

"Pull back!" Aragorn ordered, "Pull back!"

They rode back to the awaiting army, which was slowly but surely, inching back.

"Hold your ground," Aragorn commanded them, "Hold your ground."

They looked fearful, terrified of what was to come.

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day might come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship. But it is not this day. An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the age of Men comes crashing down. But it is not this day. This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!"

They drew their weapons on Aragorn's authority.

And were surrounded completely by Orcs.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an Elf," said Gimli.

Legolas smiled, "What about side by side with a friend?"

"Aye," said the Dwarf, "I could do that."

Trinity looked over to the Elf, at the way he so steadily watched the army around them.

"I love you."

He grinned, taking her hand and drawing her near him for a moment, "And I you, sweetling."

"Stay safe," she said to him, pulling back, "I'll never forgive you if you die here."

"I don't plan to, meleth nin."

Aragorn stepped forward, and then turned around.

"For Frodo," he whispered and ran toward the enemy.

The Hobbits followed next, then Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf Trinity, and with the rest of army on their heels, they ran screaming into battle. Almighty, she never fought so hard in her life, never fought so hard with so little energy; with so much will to succeed. The others fought valiantly, bravely, with such nobility and poise.

Pippin's cry rose above the death: "The eagles! The eagles are coming!"

Trinity looked up and saw them swipe at the rival with large talons, clawing and killing. She smiled faintly and jammed another Orc through the eye, her hands soaked in black liquid, their blood. Suddenly, she felt an overbearing sense of defeat, a pain in her heart and throat, as though the earth around them would give in. And then, the cave troll came.

It assaulted Aragorn first, swinging the large sword wildly at his form. The future king blocked it skillfully with his own blade. The troll hit him finally, sending him a few feet away before he crashed face first to the ground. Legolas called out his name and tried to push past the enemy, but they overpowered him. Trinity stared in horror as it loomed over her friend, over the greatest man she had ever known and put its large foot on his chest, pinning him to the ground. Aragorn stabbed its found, and Trinity smiled, turning to hack the head off one Orc.

It caught her wrist in mid-swing, and sunk its blade into her stomach, until it impaled her completely.

She sank to her knees, hands resting on the hilt, and stared up at the Orc as it raised another weapon above its head. Just as it swung, she pulled the sword from her abdomen, beheading it with a loud cry. A white hand offered itself to her, and she allowed Legolas to pull her up.

A great scream echoed, and they both watched the Eye panic, roaming side to side, as the tower crashed to the ground. The earth around them caved in, taking the Orcs into the abyss.

"Frodo!" Merry screamed in triumph, "Frodo!"

Trinity felt the wound repair itself as she threw her arms around Legolas, choking out victorious laughter. If she had done nothing else in her life, she had done this, she showed nobility in the darkest of hours. They had won. They had –

Mount doom exploded into fiery lava, and they froze with looks of complete terror.

Frodo was still inside.

"Frodo!" she screamed, and felt the foreign tears stream down her face, "No!"

Legolas held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. He too cried for the loss of a great friend. The most noble of them all, Frodo Baggins.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Dezaria stiffened as the woman came towards her. Running, dramatic, Scarlette threw her arms around the girl. With amused looks, Faith and Destiny followed.

"Niña estúpida," she sobbed into the child's hair, "You could've died."

She stiffened as the Latina's hands skimmed the wound on her shoulder; Destiny noticed and whispered something to Faith, who, in response, grabbed Scarlette by the back of her dress, forcing her away from the poor teenager.

After catching her breath, Dezaria looked at them, "Where's Trinity?"

They did not respond.

"Where's Trinity?" she asked a little louder.

Fear filled her heart at the looks they gave each other.

"Where the _fuck_ is Trinity?"

"_Dezaria_!" Destiny gasped, both in astonishment and scolding.

Her niece dissolved into tears, and choked a bit on the thick phlegm rising in her throat. Three pairs of arms wrapped around her, comforting and voices cooed in her ears. It was too much, so much, for her to handle without Trinity as an emotional crutch.

Destiny kissed her cheek, "She went with the others, off to battle."

Something to this effect had happened before. Trinity went missing for a long time, but she came back. She always came home.

"She's coming back though, right?" Dezaria scarcely recognized her own voice, it was so hoarse and weary, "She's coming back? I'll see her later."

Silence held as Destiny's violet eyes traveled to Scarlette for help, but the woman only shrugged. The many piercings in her ears glittered gold in the sun as she turned her head away, holding back tears. She hadn't yet told Destiny of her disownment, but Faith knew and kneeled before her old classmate's daughter, put her hands on the girl's shoulders.

"Dezzy…you'll see her again. But I don't think she's coming home with us."

Dezaria stared at her in blank disbelief, "You're lying. You're ly – "

"It's better this way, sweetie, better for all of us," that Southern tone had never been more damaging.

She covered her ears.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Trinity and Legolas stood outside the door of Frodo's room, holding each other for strength. It had been at least three days since the final war and he still had not woken. He was alive, Gandalf had told them, alive and resting, for the journey had been harsh on him. And now, laughter erupted from behind the door. Delighted, joyous laughter, and they wandered in, one at a time. First Merry, then Pippin, Gimli, Legolas, Trinity, Aragorn, and finally Sam, and they all shared a few more precious hours together, teasing and laughing before going their separate ways.

The Fellowship had never really broken to begin with.

It had only just begun, and each story tied into the other.

And every tie led to that little Hobbit and the burden he had selflessly carried.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Legolas smiled at the sun, enjoying its warmth against his skin. After so much darkness, so much despair, he had never thought it possible to see the light again, but here it was, displayed before him. His only regret was that Trinity was not there by his side. She had drifted back to her friends, trying to rekindle their broken relationship, returning her daughter to Destiny's care. After everything, her words still rang in his ears; the confession of her love sank into his bones like marrow.

And he watched the crowning of Aragorn. Of Elessar. Of Estel. Of Strider. Of his friend.

"Now come the days of the king," Gandalf declared to the crowd, "May they be blessed."

Aragorn stood and turned, facing his people, and they cheered for him.

"This day does not belong to one man," he told them, "but to all. Let us together rebuild this world that we may share in the days of peace."

His voice rose in song, a sweet symphony of peace as he descended down the aisle left for him. Legolas meet him, a trail of Elves at his feet. Brotherly, his hand clasped the King's shoulder, and he clasped his. With a smile, Legolas moved his eyes to the side, indicating that Aragorn should look there. He expected the surprised and grateful look that Aragorn gave him when Arwen stared back. What he hadn't expected, however, was for the man to do the same. Inquisitively, he peered across the crowd, into the distance. And there, standing behind the white stone of a pillar, was his Trinity, twisting a cloak in her hands, biting her bottom lip.

With one last smile in the Aragorn's direction, he pushed through the people to her, eyes locked on her familiar form until finally he reached her. Gently, he took the cloak from her hands and dropped it on the ground before his lips found hers again, claiming her for his own, pressing her against the strength of the stone.

"I cannot go back with them," she said, breaking the kiss, "I love them, but I cannot go back."

He sent her a very solemn look, touching her cheek with light fingertips, "Well, then, meleth, I fear you must stay here with me."

Her gaze moved back to the crowd for a moment.

"Torture," she murmured, before looking back at him with a little smirk.

He took rapture in the feel of her mouth against his, her body against his.

OoOoOoOoOo 

"_Her power alone can bring you home_."

Gandalf's words echoed in her ears, and Trinity watched as her friends prepared to leave. Dressed in their natural attire, they looked so out of place, so lost here, like it was their day once again. From Destiny's pink sundress to Scarlette's low-rise jeans, they appeared ready to leave. Dezaria tugged at her t-shirt hem, unsure that Gandalf's wisdom would work. Unsure that she could take them back home with her own special ability gained from her strangely divine heritage. This wasn't to say she knew anything of her father, no, Trinity safely kept all information of her Angelic lover tucked safely inside herself. For now, she reasoned, it was safer for her not to know anything. Not until later…

"_I'm sorry_," Scarlette had told her, "_God, I'm sorry. Please come back with us. I didn't mean it…I didn't mean it…_"

But she did mean it. Trinity was painfully aware of this fact, they all new it to be true. Had she never imposed herself on their lives (save for Dezaria, who simply would not have existed), they would never have been placed in danger. This was safest, she told herself, perhaps now Thaniel would not injure them on his way to her. Perhaps now, he would not be able to find her at all. Here in this new place, this old home that slowly rekindled the nostalgic feelings buried inside.

"I can't do it," Dezaria whispered, wrapping her arms around her nanny's waist.

Trinity knelt down before her, "Yes, you can, I know you can."

The girl's lower lip quivered.

"I can't leave without you," she mumbled, "I can't do it."

Those full lips frowned as Trinity dug for something in the leather pouch strapped to her belt. She produced two pieces of paper, folded neatly, and placed them in Dezaria's palm.

"Read your mother's first," Trinity instructed, "Then mine."

Dezaria gave her one last hug, which Trinity gratefully returned, burying her face in her daughter's curls, to hide her rapidly dissolving composure. Somehow, through all this torment, she managed to hold back her tears, even as Scarlette squeezed her desperately, childishly refusing to let go until at last Destiny and Faith were forced to detach her from her friend themselves. The sight was not pretty, as Scarlette screamed some rather unpleasant curses at them in Spanish.

Trinity was glad none of the Fellowship was there; she would not enjoy having to translate such language to them, since they had all taken a keen interest in the strange tongue. Pippin and Merry mostly, who now ran around screaming, "si" and "hola" to anyone who would listen.

Destiny brushed the skirt of her dress with one hand; she always did that when she was nervous. "You're sure this is what you want? You're sure you don't want to come back?"

"No," she replied softly, shaking her head, "No."

"You're really happy here?" her violet eyes were puzzled.

Trinity smiled, "Yes, Destiny, I am really happy here. And for a while, so were you."

A soft pink colored Destiny's cheeks at the passing reference of her relationship with Éomer.

"Good-bye, Trinity."

For once, it was Trinity who initiated the embrace and as she watched them stand side by side, she reminded herself that this was best.

And she prayed desperately to the Almighty that Dezaria would forgive her.

Her friends disappeared, gone to their own world, their own lives. There was no big production of the act, no bright light or "beam me up Scotties." Just a mere gush of wind, in her eyes, and a blink before her kin vanished into the air.

Shamelessly, she hung her head, letting her tears spill over.

Once again, she thanked the Almighty that the Fellowship had not come.

They might have seen her weakness.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Dezaria stared out the window of her aunt Destiny's '98 Buick. The city of New York sped by the windows, blurred by the heavy rainfall that had apparently begun that morning. Her power, as she chose to call it now, had dropped them in the middle of Central Park, which was close enough to Scarlette's apartment. In her hands, she held two notes. One faded yellow, with her mother's tidy scroll, and the other newly white, with Trinity's familiar penmanship. When at last she could take the suspense no longer, she opened her mother's note first, as Trinity had instructed her to do. Bits of Destiny and Faith's conversation drifted to her as she read.

_Dezaria, _

_For the past nine years, I have raised you. I've lead you down the path of faith, of intelligence. I've offered you all the love I have, treated you with respect and compassion, and knew that one day you would grow to be the most amazing young woman. But know I know better than to think that. Every night, I prayed to the Lord our God to give me strength, to teach you the ways of His mercy. _

_Even God cannot defeat the horror of your genetics. _

_I am not your mother, child, Trinity the Vile is. The Spawn of Satan. The Devil in Whore's Disguise. _

_I see her meddle in your mind, distort your path to the Lord with every movement, every word. And you, the girl whom I raised to be my own, allow it. Her mind blackens yours, suppresses any light within your soul. She damns you child, can't you see? Words are poison from her, yet you are drawn to this Devil Woman like a moth to a flame! As are you 'brothers' and your 'father' cannot keep his hands off her body. Oh, I know what they do together. I saw it, I saw them. Kissing and licking and touching. It's dirty. She's dirty. _

_I tried to rid her from our lives, do you remember? I took your 'daddy's' gun and I meant to shoot her, to destroy her. But then you walked in the room, and instead I shot you. I never meant to hurt you, child, I only wanted to cleanse your soul. To purge you of evil thoughts, but the strength of the Devil Woman was too great; she made my arm move with her thoughts. I swear it's the truth! I would never hurt you. _

_Never. _

_God came to me in a dream last night. He told me that a sacrifice must be made to appease Him, to make my prayers of the Devil Woman's demise come to life. I am this sacrifice. Through my death, I will clean your soul, both you and your 'father's' and your 'brothers''. I can save you still. _

_I wash my hands of this life. _

_Happy birthday, _

_Margaret Johnson _

She swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. So this was why Trinity had wanted her to wait. The pain was almost unbearable. She opened the second note.

_My daughter, _

_You have every right to loath me, to hate my very existence now that you know the truth. I want you to know that I love you. I have always loved you, and I wanted to keep you with all my heart, but I could not. It was too dangerous and Margaret seemed so capable, so willing to accept you into her home. Even after the decision was made, I could not leave you alone. As your nanny, I tried my hardest to keep our relationship ambivalent, to keep you at arm's length. But as your mother, I could not. _

_I was blind then, and I did not see until too late. _

_Shame made me unwilling to stay with you. You are a bright, beautiful, strong girl with a happy future ahead of you. Please, live your life through; know that your mother loves you, and that Margaret loved you. Destiny loves you, Scarlette, and Faith as well. _

_This note could go on forever, but it is time I let you go. _

_Forgive me, I chose what I thought would be best for you,_

_Trinity_

Neatly, she set the notes on the empty seat next to her, turning her head back to the widow.

With the raindrops falling so hard, none could see her tears. In the front seat, Faith and Destiny laughed and laughed.

OoOoOoOoOo 

Fours years later, she comes to me, this goddess I first met in Bree. With eyes like the greenest of forests, and hair darker than the raven, blacker than the soil here in the Shire. She ducks through my front door, smiling and laughing with ease. Never have I seen her like this, so happy and carefree. I ask if I can get her anything, some wine. She nods and replies with a sweet "that would be lovely" and we sit at the table, watching each other, I know there is something else behind her visit. Something more she wishes to address.

"Why are you really here, Trinity?"

She smiles, taking a slow sip of wine, and places the cup on the table neatly.

"I hear you're quite the writer, Master Baggins."

Her voice is charming and low, just the way I remembered it the past several years.

"And where did you hear this?" I ask her.

Her smile grows, "A little bird told me."

Ah, so it was Gandalf who told her. I stare at Trinity blankly, wondering what she could possibly want from me now. Her hand extends toward me, a gesture more graceful than even the Elves.

"May I see it, Frodo?"

I fetch it at once, unable to resist her, thinking that this must have been what Legolas thought the first time he saw her. I hand it over to her, watching as she reverently takes it in her hands. Carefully, she pages through it, those lovely eyes moving with the flow of the words.

"I cannot be in this, mellonamin," she says softly, reaching over to touch my hand.

Her skin is cool.

I frown, "Why not?"

She opens a page spontaneously and quotes my exact words.

" 'How do you pick up the threads of a new life? How do you go on when in your heart you begin to understand that there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep, that have taken hold.' "

In conclusion, she snaps it shut, sending me a rueful smile.

"That is why. Exactly what you've written here, that is my entire life. It hurts too deeply for others to know. I beg you, elear, do not let anyone know I existed. Do not let anything think that I draw breath."

After my agreement, she promptly leaves, back to her lover, back to her life. And as I watch her go, I pray for her forgiveness.

Even after the confirmation left my lips, I knew it was a lie.

Her life, her role in the Fellowship, cannot go unwritten.

OoOoOoOoOo 

**I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the following people, who have my heartfelt thanks for enjoying a story that I've been writing in my head for the past several years: **

**Elfie Girl, Fang500, FetishxArchangel, Flynnstorie, ForeverImaginative, Queen of the Nerds, Starmaker Superstar, Shizamm, Waterfaery777, Crecy, The Battling Bard, and Saber Apricot.**

_The sequel to this story is called **Casus Belli**_


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